The River and The Highway
by mischief-maker1
Summary: Ryan Fawcett was Dean's first exorcism when he was eleven years old. Occasionally, the huntress pops up into his life. But...is there a greater force at work, bringing them together again and again? Spoilers eventually through the Season 9 finale. Follows existing SPN cannon. Rated M for...everything. Trigger Warnings within. Dean/OFC
1. Carry On My Wayward Son: Lullaby Version

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I wish I did, but, alas, I am just a poor girl from a poor family…**

**DISCLAIMER TWO: Triggers for rape, assault, demonic possession. My story is dark and ugly. I won't apologize for it. If you can't handle it, please hit the little "back" button and exit without flames or criticism. Thank you.**

**AN:** Hi! Okay, so, my first Supernatural fanfiction. Meep! I fell in love with the show thanks to a million pins I kept seeing on Pinterest about something called a SuperWhoLock. I started watching Doctor Who because of Pinterest, started watching Sherlock for the same reason, and then, well, the pretty drew me in, okay? But I stayed for the plot.

Anywho, this came to me and the ending wasn't supposed to be this…massive. It was a few chapters tops, then it exploded in my head and then Dean took the mark and then he opened black eyes in the season finale and I was like, "HOOOOOLY SHIT" and then, well, this fic took on a life of its own. I will try my damndest to make the characters STAY in character and will also try my best to research to the best of my ability to stay true to Show.

Having said THAT, I will take a few liberties here and there, especially with the boys and hunting. Not much, I promise, just so it flows with my story. The first and second chapters are the best examples of that. Hopefully you'll hang on and enjoy the ride.

This story is Dean/original female character, just FYI. Trust me, she's not a Mary Sue, at least, I don't think she is! And hopefully even though I jump around in the story, you'll stick with it.

One last warning…the first few chapters are in Dean's point of view (except a little bit of John's in these first two chappies.) After that, we switch to Ryan's POV. You'll understand why as we go. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. I will rehash things a bit from her POV, but I'll try to keep it interesting.

Still with me? Cool. Let's do it!

* * *

_**September 1978**_

Mary blew out a breath as she sat down in the chair next to John, who smiled. He couldn't believe it. Pregnant. When she'd told him…well, she was ecstatic. He had shared her excitement, but the problems also plagued him. Money was tight. Being a mechanic certainly wasn't living the high life, but Mary was thrilled and he couldn't wait to show the kid how to play baseball, how to work on cars, how to treat a woman the right way, all the things his own father wasn't around to do.

"I can't believe I have to fill out all this paperwork again," Mary groused. "Isn't all this information supposed to have been in that packet of stuff from my regular doctor? And, of _course _I'm a woman! Clearly this paper was created by a man…"

John heard a feminine chuckle and his gaze lit on another couple sitting across the small waiting room from them. "Oh, I know. Isn't it just the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? They want our whole life stories! We're only pregnant, after all!"

Mary smiled at the woman, who wasn't showing a bit. "How far along are you?"

The woman grinned. "Oh, only about two months. You?"

"Five," Mary told her as she rubbed the little bump on her stomach. John was dying for it to be a boy, but, hey, if it were a girl, that would be alright, too. As long as it was healthy. That was the main thing.

"I'm Mary. This is John. And this," she said as she continued rubbing, "Is Dean. Or Deanna."

The woman's grin grew. "Well, this will be Ryan, whether it is a boy or a girl. It's my maiden name."

"Very pretty, either way."

John thought the name was too masculine for a girl, and too feminine for a boy, but who was he to say? So he kept his mouth shut and shot a bewildered grin to the woman's husband, who sat next to her with a bored expression on his face. The woman introduced them as Elaine and Eddie Fawcett. Eddie worked at the machine shop outside of town programming CNC machines. John didn't know much about that line of work, but when the man started talking about how he fixed them, it piqued John's interest and they carried on their own conversation as the two women discussed babies.

After what felt like forever, they heard the nurse call out, "Mary Winchester," and they bade the couple a goodbye.

"Oh, John, I like her. I'm going to invite them for dinner next week."

John rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. It wasn't worth arguing about. At least Mary had a new friend. He'd do anything for his wife's happiness.

* * *

_**January 30, 1979**_

John sighed tiredly as he heard the soft knocking at the door. Dean hadn't slept except for an hour here or there since they'd gotten home from the hospital three days ago and he sure as hell didn't want any visitors. But when Elaine had called earlier in the day, Mary had been eager for her friend to visit. So, he put on a smile and accepted the hug from Elaine as he opened the door. He looked at Eddie, who stood sheepishly holding something wrapped in blue ribbons and bows. "Uh…here?" he offered.

John chuckled. "You want a beer? I could use some man company to take my mind off diapers for a few minutes."

Eddie grinned and followed John into the living room where he gave Mary the gift, then to the kitchen.

"So, how is it?" Eddie wanted to know.

John grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and popped the top off of each using his wedding ring. He took a swig and then looked at the other man. "I've lived through war, Eddie, but I swear to God, the kid is going to kill me."

Eddie winced. "That bad?"

John thought a moment, then grinned. "Nah. He's…it's unbelievable. I never really thought of myself as a family man until I met Mary. My old man bailed on us when I was just a kid, so I don't have a lot of experience with dads. But I swear I'll do my damndest for my kid."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, John, I _did _have a dad and the whole perfect childhood and I'm terrified, so I think it's a new father thing."

John nodded. "That's alright. We'll learn together, I guess."

Eddie chuckled. "We'll need to. With wives like ours, I imagine they'll want basketball teams of kids."

John shuddered. "Let us survive this one, first."

* * *

_**April 17, 1979**_

John walked in from work half exhausted and more than a little wet thanks to the April rain storm currently raging outside. Mr. Tennyson's Ford was giving him trouble again and for some reason, John couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. He'd diagnosed three issues with the damn thing and fixed them, but still, Mr. Tennyson brought the car back with another problem and though he'd argued with the man that each thing he'd fixed had been a legitimate issue, it hadn't mattered. Mr. Tennyson had all but demanded John fix it for free this time, which had led to shouts so loud they'd almost come to blows, stopping only when Mike broke them up.

He walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. Mary was putting ribbons on a huge pink basket filled with all sorts of baby crap. "What the hell is all this, Mary?"

"Elaine had Ryan a few days ago! I told you, remember?"

John eyed the basket warily. "Yes, I remember. I just didn't realize we had to spend all my hard earned money on shit for their kid."

Mary's eyes narrowed. "We didn't spend _your _hard earned money, John; this is some of _my _money left over from _my _part time job before Dean was born!"

"Money _we_ could have used for _our son's _diapers!"

Mary threw her hands up in exasperation. "Look, Elaine spent a lot of money on us buying that bouncy thing for Dean, John. Now, I know this isn't that grand of a gift, but it has diapers, and some stuff I didn't even think of needing when Dean came home from the hospital. I just want to make it an easy transition for them…"

"So? Let their family do it! They have family, Mary!"

"In North Carolina, John! Eddie's mother can't afford a plane ticket out here!"

"And we can't afford to buy all their stuff for them!" John shouted.

Dean started to cry from his carrier and Mary sighed as she walked to him. "Look, John, she's one of my best friends, okay? She's just as lost in this whole motherhood thing as I am. I wanted to be there for her, alright?"

John felt himself deflate a little bit. Mary's parents died in some odd accidents when they were dating. She hadn't wanted to talk about it and he hadn't mentioned it to her in forever.

"Can I have the keys to the Impala?"

"Why?" he bit out.

She glared at him. "You took my car in yesterday to replace the shocks, remember? You were supposed to do that today, but I'm assuming, since you drove the Impala home and didn't call me and tell me to be ready to drive over there to pick it up, that you didn't get it finished. So, I need a car to go to Elaine's house. The pot roast is cooking for supper. It should be ready by the time I come back. Go take a shower, have a beer, and be in a better mood when I get home, okay?"

He didn't say anything, just held out the key chain with the bullet on it. He'd kept that bullet as a reminder of his time in the war, time he didn't want to repeat.

She made to grab the keys but he snatched them away and grabbed her, pulling her to him. She struggled at first and then blew out a breath as he pulled her in for a hug. It was as close to "I'm sorry" as he gave and he assumed she accepted it because she rolled her eyes, smiled a little, and kissed his lips. "I'll be home in an hour."

"Dean can stay with me," he offered.

She shook her head as she put the baby back in his carrier. "It's fine. Elaine will want to see him anyway."

She hooked the carrier on one arm, the pink basket on the other, and walked out the door into the pouring rain.

* * *

_**October 1979**_

John flipped the burger and took a swig of his beer. It was a nice fall Saturday and the Winchesters and Fawcetts were having a cookout at the local park. John wasn't sure _why _it had to be at the damn park when he had a perfectly good grill at home, but he just went with it. Mary and Elaine had been talking about it for weeks. Apparently the two walked here often to bring the kids to swing in the baby swings and let them play in the sandbox.

John smiled at his son who was currently crawling _out _of the sandbox and into the grass. Dean was a beautiful boy, he had to admit. He had a quick smile and mischief in his eyes most of the time. Had a quick temper, too, but that one he'd expected. He and Mary were both…volatile when they got angry, so it was to be expected their kid would too.

"Winchesters!" Eddie called as he walked up carrying Ryan in his arms. _She is a cute kid, too_, John mused. She was three months and ten days younger than Dean. He wouldn't have realized it, but he heard it often enough, it had burned itself in his brain. She had a head full of brown curls that went all over the place, and a little button nose. She was crawling already, too, much to Elaine's dismay, and it was hilarious to watch the two babies chatter to one another and crawl around together.

"Eddie, how's work?" John asked as he took the hot dogs from Elaine.

Eddie shrugged as he sat Ryan down next to Dean, who took her rattle from her and started chewing on it. Ryan hit him in the side of the head with a truck, which caused Dean to drop the rattle. John chuckled at the two. _Already cowing down to a woman, son. What will ever become of you? _

"It's work," Eddie said finally. "I tell ya, if computers keep coming in, one day my job might be obsolete."

"Don't you think all this computer crap is a fly by night thing?"

"Not in my business. Word is, CNC machines will become automated. If that happens…"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Elaine said softly as she patted her husband's arm. "Besides, your dad still has that cabinet making business."

"I don't want to build damn cabinets, Elaine. Why do you think I moved in the first place?"

Elaine sighed. "Can we not do this here?" she hissed.

"So, Elaine, what has Ryan learned this week?" Mary asked as she, too, joined their group. John recognized the diversionary tactic and he was impressed by his wife.

Of course, between the two of them, they had both gotten good at finding ways to avoid arguments. Sometimes they just thrived on them instead.

"Oh, Mary, she's started pulling up to the furniture! I think we've got an early walker on our hands!"

Mary sighed. "Yes, Dean has discovered how much easier life is on two legs. I don't doubt he'll be walking soon and when he does, watch out!"

John smiled as the two women gushed over the kids and went back to cooking.

* * *

_**April 16, 1983 (Yeah, we skipped forward in time quite a bit)**_

"Happy afer birfday, Wyan," Dean said to his friend as he handed her the gift wrapped in G.I. Joe paper.

"Tank you, Dean," Ryan replied as she took it. Mary and Elaine smiled over the kids' heads and John chortled. It was Ryan's fourth birthday party and Mary had insisted on coming, even though she was due with the new baby in only a few weeks. The doctor had told her to take it easy. She had told him to piss off. John had never loved his wife more. She didn't let anyone, and certainly not some idiot doctor, tell her what to do. She was fine, she was healthy, and she would be damned if she would 'take it easy' just because she was expecting another child. John had put his foot down, though, and wouldn't let her carry Dean around. He was four now. He needed to be on his own two feet anyway.

"Daddy? Can yous play wif us?" Dean asked as he slipped his hand in John's.

John smiled at the two kids. There were other children playing in the park, but since neither Ryan nor Dean were in daycare, the only two children at the party was the two of them. "Sure," he said with a grin as he snatched both kids up into his arms amid giggles and shrieks. He carried them over to the swings and started them both going, pushing them as high as he dared.

He smiled over at his wife, who was rubbing her belly while she talked to Elaine. He couldn't believe he'd been blessed so much. He wasn't quite sure what he did to deserve this happiness but he would take it.

"Higher, Daddy! Higher!"

John laughed and turned his attention back to Dean, who was eagerly pumping his legs. "Hold on tight, Ryan," he warned as he gave her a little harder push as well.

She giggled and tossed her head back as her legs went up. "Dis. Is. Awesome!" she cried.

"Awesome!" Dean agreed and John just shook his head as Eddie walked over to him, handing him a soda.

"How's it going, Eddie?" John asked.

Eddie blew out a breath. "Fine. The plant laid off a handful of employees."

"You weren't one of them, were you?"

Eddie shook his head. "No, I'm safe for now, but had to take a pay cut. It's bad."

"You aren't going to move are you?"

Eddie looked at his wife. "Not now. Not yet. But we might have to."

"I'm sorry, man. If there's anything we can do…" John knew money was tight, would be tighter still when Little Samuel or Samantha made their appearance, but at least he had a decent job that paid steady.

Eddie held up a hand. "Thanks. I don't want to worry Elaine. She's got a lot of stress."

"She doing alright?" John knew she'd just suffered another miscarriage. The Fawcetts had been trying for a baby for the past two years.

"She'll make it. She's a strong woman."

John smiled. "Both our women are, man."

Eddie laughed. "That they are. Strong willed."

"God help us," John added.

* * *

_**May 2, 1983**_

"Daddy!" Dean called as he ran into John's waiting arms.

"Hey, bud. You wanna come meet your new brother?"

"I got a brodder! Wyan! I got a brodder!"

"Neat!" she shouted as she walked up holding Elaine's hand.

"Thanks, Elaine, for watching Dean for us. It was nice not to have to worry about him and where he was."

Elaine smiled softly at John. "How is Mary?"

"Tired, but fine. Sammy was a big baby." He chortled. "I imagine he's going to be huge by the time he's an adult."

"I'm big, too!" Dean intoned.

John gave him a hug. "I know you are, buddy, and you're a big brother now. That's a big responsibility." They had talked to the boy about how Dean would have to be a good boy to help his mom some and Dean had taken to it with an enthusiasm that put both John and Mary's minds at ease. He walked them down the hall and just outside Mary's door he stopped, kneeling down to Dean's level. "Okay, Dean, Mommy's really tired and a little sore, okay? So, you go give her hugs, but be gentle, alright?"

Dean was solemn as he nodded. "I pwomise, Daddy."

John smiled and kissed Dean's hair. "Okay then." He sat Dean down and the little boy grabbed Ryan's hand before they ran into Mary's room.

"I wish that excitement for Ryan," Elaine stated as she and John also stepped inside.

John wasn't comfortable with other women's emotions and feelings, but Mary had forewarned him of Elaine and Eddie's desire and failed attempts at having another child. He felt sorry for them and once more thanked his lucky stars for the blessings he had. So he laid a hand on her shoulder. "If it's meant, Elaine, it will be. I never thought I was meant to be married or have kids, but I did. Life is what we make of it. So, uh, make the most of what you have."

She smiled through gentle tears falling down her face. "Why, John Winchester, I didn't know you were so sensitive. You're an armchair philosopher."

He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I don't know about that…"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "You're a good man, John. Always stay that way."

* * *

_**October 31, 1983 **_

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Dean's voice called as soon as John breeched the door. It was Halloween and John had promised Dean they would go out trick-or-treating just as soon as he got home and cleaned up from work. "I'm Batman!"

The caped crusader crashed into his legs and John laughed as he picked Dean up and tossed him into the air. "So you are! And who am I?"

Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked at John. "You're Alfred."

John chortled. "I am. And why is that?"

"It's ucuz Batman's family is dead and I don't want you to be dead, Daddy."

John nodded. "Well, thanks, bud, I appreciate that." He glanced at Sammy who was sitting on the floor, playing with blocks, well, gnawing on one, rather. "And who is your baby brother?"

"He's Robin ucuz he's not big enough to do anyfing cool!"

John laughed out loud at that. "Mary?"

"I'm coming! Just wanted to pop the meatloaf in the oven," she stated as she grabbed a sweater from the hook in the hall. "It should be ready by the time we get back."

"Sounds good." He could sense her sadness. Eddie had lost his job, so it looked like the Fawcetts would be moving back to North Carolina soon. They hadn't the heart to tell the kids yet. Dean and Ryan loved each other more than any other two children John had ever seen. Of course, he didn't know that many kids, so who was he to judge?

He glanced at Dean, who was almost vibrating with excitement. "Well, I guess we can just put this one to bed. I mean, it's not like anything _special _is going on tonight…"

Dean's mouth fell open. "Daddy! You pwomised we could go twick-or-tweating!"

John started tickling Dean, who fell back as the giggles assaulted him. "Daddy! Daddy, stop!"

"Nope, not gonna," John told him as he blew kisses on Dean's stomach.

"Unca! Unca! I give!"

John stopped and eyed the boy. "Batman would never give up that easily."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, but you're Alfred, not a bad guy. Batman would never hurt Alfred. He loves Alfred."

John didn't know what to say to that. "Well, I suppose you're right. But what would he do to one of the bad guys?"

"Beat 'em up!"

"Exactly." He glanced at Sammy, who was fighting Mary slipping a jacket on him. "You know, it's a good thing Sammy isn't a bad guy."

Dean shook his head. "He's gots to be Robin. Sammy could never be a bad guy! I couldn't hurts Sammy! He's my brover! I gots to protect him! Then when we gets big, we can fight crime together! Like Batman and Robin really do!"

Mary smiled at them. "Well, until he's big enough to feed himself and go potty like a big boy, I guess he'll have to be a crime-fighter in training."

"I'm big enough," Dean said with a smile. "I's a great crime fighter!" Just then, the doorbell rang. "And here's my helper!"

John's eyebrows quirked but he smiled when Dean opened the door to reveal Ryan wearing a Wonder Woman costume. "I'm here! I can hep save da day!"

The adults smiled and cameras came out for everyone to have their pictures taken.

Three hours, ten houses, two tummy aches, and a meatloaf later, they were saying their goodbyes to the Fawcett family. "Daddy, why candy gotta make your tummy hurt?" Dean asked miserably when John came in to kiss him goodnight.

John shot him a look. "Maybe next time you and Ryan decide to eat all the Halloween candy, you should heed the warning from your mom."

"I think Ryan's sicker than me. She ate," he held up three fingers, "free candy bars!"

John's nose wrinkled. Mary was still cleaning up the proof that Ryan had been sicker than Dean.

"I sorry, Daddy. I pwomise I wiw wisten to Mommy next time."

John bent down to kiss Dean's head. "I know, Dean. You're a good boy. I love you."

"Love you, too," Dean managed as he hugged his bear tightly, already halfway asleep.

John blew out a breath as he made his way back downstairs. "Everything all cleaned up?"

Mary chortled. "It's vomit, John. You saw blood and guts in the war."

"Yeah, and puke still does me in," he affirmed.

She smiled and walked over to kiss his lips. "I love you, John Winchester."

"I sometimes wonder why," he admitted quietly.

She smiled and kissed him again. "It's cleaned up enough for now. The boys are in bed. Come on. Let me show you just how much I love you."

He grinned. "Well, you know I can never say 'no' to that."

* * *

_**November 3, 1983 (Early Morning)**_

"John! John!" he heard as if in a daze.

John turned wide eyed and looked at Elaine Fawcett. "Sh-she's gone, Elaine. Mary's gone!"

Elaine's hands flew to her mouth and she began sobbing. "No…"

He looked up at the house in shock. He couldn't make heads or tails of what had happened. He'd tried to tell the police there was something going on in the house, but they had just looked at him like he was crazy and patted him on the shoulder.

"John, come on, let me take the boys with me back to the house…"

"No!" he shouted as he tugged both boys closer to him. "No, Elaine. They're not safe. It isn't safe for them…"

"John, you're scaring Dean. He's been through enough."

John looked down at his oldest boy, who was pale white under the soot that had floated through the air to stain their clothes. "Y-yeah, okay. Let's…let's get him cleaned up…"

"I have some of his play clothes at the house, John. Come on. You can wear some of Eddie's things. Let's get the boys taken care of. You're all exhausted, you need sleep, you need…" her voice caught and she shook her head. "Come on. Let's go."

He followed her in a daze as she walked to the passenger side of the Impala. "Come on," she motioned as she directed John into the seat. "Dean, come on, sweetie, into the back seat."

Dean scampered into the back and Elaine held out her hands for Sammy. "Come on, John, let me put Sammy in his seat. He's fine. See? He's asleep."

John looked down at his little boy. What the hell was he going to do without Mary? What did he know about raising his sons?

"John, come on," Elaine coaxed. "Let's get you three cleaned up, alright?"

John blinked and handed Sammy to her. She was Mary's best friend. She would help, wouldn't she? She was moving away. Mary didn't have many friends, and the ones she did had moved and she'd had a few that died lately, which was strange. What was he going to do?

She took Sammy from him and strapped him into the baby seat that was in the back of the car. The stupid car seat laws had gone into effect while Mary was pregnant. Mary…John didn't realize he was crying until he felt the hot tracks streak down his face. He didn't notice the car moving, either, until they were parked outside of the Fawcett house. He blinked. Had he given Elaine the keys? He didn't remember. Did he have the keys? Yes, he did. He had made a beer run after the boys had gone to bed. Dean'd had a cold earlier in the week. It had run through the house. Mary hadn't felt good, said she was going to bed. He needed some more beer. She hadn't bought any more at the store. He'd wanted to argue about it, but he decided to go out and get it and not be a whiney bitch about it instead. She'd gone to sleep. He'd watched TV until he fell asleep. Then he'd heard her scream…

He sucked in a breath. "Mary…"

Elaine didn't respond as she walked around and grabbed up Sammy before taking Dean's hand.

No, he couldn't let the kids out of his sight! He leapt from the car and was by her side in an instant, trying to wrench Sammy from her grasp. "John!" she shouted. "Stop!"

"No! They're not safe! It…something…something wasn't right! Something killed Mary!"

"Fire, John," Elaine stated softly. "It was a fire, John. A fire killed Mary."

_No fire causes your wife to burn on the ceiling_, he wanted to shout, but he didn't. He sucked in great lungfuls of air as he fell to his rear on the front steps of her house. "God, Elaine, what am I going to do?"

She held Sammy close to her and shook her head. "I don't know, John. But let's get in the house. You boys have been sitting outside all night in the cold November air. Let's get you warmed up and some food in your bellies, alright?"

"Food. Warm. Right," John managed.

"Mama?" they heard and saw Ryan coming down the stairs.

"Ryan, go get Dean's bag from the laundry room, okay?"

Ryan yawned. "Why are you here so early?" she asked Dean.

"There was a fire," he said simply.

Ryan blinked and opened her mouth, but Elaine shushed her quickly. "Go get the bag, now. Then go get those things we were going to take to them today, those clothes from Marcy…"

John looked at her quizzically.

"One of the ladies from church has a boy a little older than Sammy. She sent me some hand-me-down clothes for him…I washed them and all…"

John just nodded, confused. He couldn't function, he couldn't…nothing made sense right now. He sat there, as if in a trance while Elaine fussed over Sammy, getting him a bottle from the bag she had found in the back seat of the Impala and changing him before setting him down to sleep on a pallet then she got Dean cleaned up and fed and sleeping on the same pallet next to Sammy before she turned her attention back to John.

She poured them both glasses of whiskey before handing one to him. "John, come on, drink this. It'll help."

He downed it quickly, barely noticing the burn. "Elaine…she's gone. My Mary…she's gone."

Elaine laid a hand on his arm. "I know, John. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry…"

This time, he didn't have to hold back as the sobs wracked his body. What was he going to do?

* * *

**AN2**: Ya'll still with me? I know, heavy. Sorry about that! The next one will be, too, but it will get a bit better. This isn't a happy story, just FYI but…I'm a big believer in the Happily Ever After. Let's see if The Winchesters find any, shall we?


	2. Sweet Child of Mine

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. But if I did, I would be nicer to the characters. Or...maybe not? LOL**

**Disclaimer two: Things start to get uglier here. Just warning you. Triggers for discussions of rape, demonic possession, violence. **

**AN: Hi! Thanks for my two reviews and four follows! Yay! I'm glad you're enjoying this story. There is a LOT of story going on. I hope you stick around!**

**So, I suck at a lot of computer related things. I can write, (hopefully you think so) but if you would be interested in making me a banner or putting my little story out into the world in any communities you might be in, just PM me, kay? Thanks a bunch! **

**ONE LAST THING...Each chapter will have a song. You don't have to listen to it, I'm just using it as chapter title, but it IS appropriate for the chapter. Just FYI.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: Sweet Child of Mine**

**SEVEN YEARS LATER…**

"Dean, pack up. I've got a job."

Dean didn't even blink as he stood immediately from the game of battleship he and Sammy were playing. "Yes, sir," he intoned as he started putting the pieces in the box.

"But I was winning, Dean!" Sammy whined.

"Shut it, Sammy. We'll play it again. Go get your stuff packed." He lowered his voice, "Dad sounds like he's in a hurry."

Sammy stood and huffed to his bed before he began shoving stuff into his duffle bag, mumbling under his breath. Dean stopped and looked around, praying their father didn't hear Sam's whining. It sounded like John was in a mood, and they didn't need Sammy's sniveling to make the situation worse.

It took them an hour before they were on the road. Dean was dying to know what the job was, so, he willingly handed over his walkman and cassettes to his brother so he could lean over the seat. "What's the job, sir?" he asked softly and politely.

"Possible demon activity linked to some disappearances of kids in North Carolina."

"Kids?" Demons never went after kids. Well, rarely. Usually they went after grown ups and made them do their dirty deeds. What would demons want with kids?

John nodded. "Specifically girls, aged ten to fourteen."

Dean whistled low. He was eleven, so this was in his age range. They hadn't dealt with a lot of things messing with kids, or if they had, Dean hadn't known about it. Except the Shtriga. That…that had been terrible. However, most of the time, it was taboo even for some of the nasties they'd come across. "Can I help, Dad?"

John sighed. "We'll see. I can't tell you anything definitive until I get there and hit the ground running."

* * *

It was eighteen hours later when they drove into the small town of Trimbly, North Carolina. He got them a room at the seedy motel and after putting up all the wards, they exhaustedly fell into bed.

The next morning, John was up with the sun and out in town, asking questions and finding out about the missing girls. So far, there was no connection that he could see, but he knew there would be something. All the girls were around the same age, but that's where the similarities ended. One was a softball champ, one was a ballerina, one was a swimmer, and one played soccer…they all attended different schools and all lived in different areas of town.

He was asking about the third victim when he heard, "John? John Winchester?"

John closed his eyes a moment, willing the lie to his tongue as he turned and was accosted by another man hugging him. "John! I knew it was you! What are you doing in town?"

John looked at Eddie Fawcett. "Eddie? Uh, hey, man, good to see you."

"What are you doing here in North Carolina?"

"Job shopping." Well, it wasn't a lie.

"Where are the boys? Are they with you?"

John nodded. "Yes, they're staying at the motel…"

"Which one?"

"Rip Van Winkle? Out on Route One."

Eddie wrinkled his nose. "No, you don't want to stay there. It's a fleabag infested joint. Come home with me. I'm sure Elaine would love to see the boys. You know how badly it hurt her when we moved away after the accident."

John felt the stab to his heart, but remembering Elaine was one of Mary's best friends, he couldn't say no. Besides, it would be good for the boys to be in a house for a few days. Maybe that would help Sammy's attitude and give Dean a chance to be a kid for a minute. "Yeah, uh, that sounds good. Thanks, Eddie."

"Great!" He wrote an address on the back of an old receipt from his pocket and handed it to John. "Here's my address. Just take Highway One, north, to the second stoplight from the motel. Turn right, first left, first right. Third brick house on the left. See you around supper time? Elaine's making meatloaf."

John smiled just slightly and nodded. "Sure. And thanks again."

"Elaine's going to have kittens. You wait and see. She'll be thrilled."

John watched him walk away and sighed. This case just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

* * *

"Now, remember, boys, I'm looking for work, we live in Ohio. Keep it vague…" John rattled off a few more things Dean wasn't paying attention to. They were Winchesters. They knew how to lie and lie effectively. There was no way anyone would suspect their dad was a hunter. Or, rather, that he hunted the things that went bump in the night, for that matter.

They pulled up to the modest ranch style brick home and Dean felt this odd sensation, a wistfulness. John had said this woman was friends with his mom, and that Dean had played with their daughter, who was the same age as him. This was a tangible connection to the woman they loved most in the world. They walked to the small brick landing and were almost immediately accosted by a short, slightly plump lady. Dean wouldn't call her fat, just…fluffy. Kinda like that cat that hung around the motel they were staying at in Newark, New Jersey last year. It was a nice cat. It always let him and Sammy pet it.

"John! Dean! Sam! Oh, boys!" she cried. And as she hugged them, Dean felt something wet in his hair. She was crying. Crying because she missed them. No one missed them. No one even knew them. He swallowed hard and felt his eyes stinging as she pulled him away to look at him. "My goodness, you're handsome, Dean. Eleven years old already, just like Ryan."

Dean's brow knit. Ryan. The girl, right? Dean could barely remember her. He recalled flashes of a toothy grin, brownish-red pigtails, a Wonder Woman Halloween costume to his Batman, and a shared bubble gum flavored ice cream cone because hers fell in the dirt. Just then, the girl in question bound to the door. "Mom, the timer's going off…" She stopped short and looked at him with big brown eyes. "Uh, hi."

He smiled shyly at her. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. "Hi."

Sammy piped up next to him, "Hi! I'm Sammy!"

Her attention turned to the younger boy and she smiled a blinding smile. "Hiya, Sammy. I'm Ryan."

Dean felt a moment's worth of irritation that she wasn't smiling at _him _that way, but he let it go as he realized the woman still had yet to move her hand from his shoulder.

"John, the boys are beautiful. Mary would be so proud…" And then she was off sobbing again.

Dean immediately glanced up at his father to gage his reaction. They were usually forbidden to talk about Mary, leaving Dean to tell his brother about her when John was out on a hunt, and even then, only when Sammy wouldn't shut up about her. To his surprise, John was looking stoic, but not angry, just sad, and it irritated Dean that this woman wouldn't shut up as she continued going on about the woman they all loved and missed.

"Elaine," her husband reprimanded softly as he, too, came to stand at the door. "Give them all some space, let them come in the house, for crying out loud. Ryan said the timer's going off. You know I'm useless in the kitchen…"

"Oh! Of course…" she sniffled once, and then touched Dean's face softly. "I didn't get to know Sammy very well, but I have missed you, Dean."

Dean swallowed hard once more as he felt that funny feeling in his chest again. "Thank you, ma'am," he managed.

She smiled and excused herself while she bustled back into the kitchen. "Ryan!" she called, "It will be about fifteen minutes. Show the boys some of your toys, alright?"

The girl, Ryan, rolled her eyes. "Like you'll want to play with Barbie dolls."

Dean snorted back a laugh and Sam shot him a look.

Ryan smiled. "However, I do have some boy stuff and some games and things for when my cousin comes to visit. Come on to my room."

They followed her through the small sitting area to a hallway and she showed them into a room that was surprisingly not girly. The surprise must have shown on Dean's face because Ryan chuckled. "I'm not a girly girl, Dean. No lace, no frills, just me."

He saw the movie poster hanging on the wall and smiled. "That wasn't a bad one."

She shrugged. "Eh, well, Dad and I are both Trekkies."

"You don't like Star Wars?" Sammy asked, as if it were something indecent.

She giggled. "Well, not as much as Star Trek, no, but it's okay. Princess Leia IS cool. And Han, well, Han is awesome. But this one…" She closed her closet door to show a poster of Indiana Jones. "Indy's my favorite."

"Mine too," Dean mused as he walked over to the poster.

"I got a whip a few months ago when we went on vacation," she started as she flopped onto the bed. "And Daddy bought me a fedora. He says I might can learn to use the whip. Wouldn't that be cool?"

Dean couldn't help stare at her as she enthused, jumping off the bed to rummage through her closet, bringing out her hat and her whip to show Sam, who was as excited as she was.

He switched over to watch Sammy talk about Indiana Jones and didn't notice her staring at him until he glanced her way and they both blushed. Most girls didn't really notice either of the Winchester boys, not yet, anyway. He knew he was decent looking, but he was a scrawny kid, they both were, and he was still short for his age. He sized her up as she tucked a piece of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. Ryan was about a half a head shorter than him, so she must have been a midget compared to regular sixth graders. Or maybe she was still fifth grade? He wasn't sure.

"WOW!" Sammy exclaimed, drawing Dean out of his musings. "Check out your bookshelf!" Dean looked at it and saw it was filled to the brim with books, some stacked here and there around it, on top of it, by the bed; books were everywhere.

"I like to read," she said softly. "I'm reading this one, right now, about a girl that finds an abandoned house with a velvet room in it. In the room is a ghost."

Dean snorted out loud. "Is it scary, princess?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "I'll have you know I'm _not _scared of ghosts! I've read all the Goosebumps books! Daddy lets me watch some scary movies, sometimes! And I love Stephen King movies, too!"

"Yeah, I bet if a real ghost would come in here, you would pee your pants!" Dean taunted.

She narrowed her eyes and he could see the anger sparking in those brown depths. Odd that he realized they were the color of his dad's favorite whiskey…

"Dean!" Sammy interjected. "Cool it!" He turned to the girl. "Dean's macho, Ryan. He'd probably be scared if he saw a ghost, too."

Now it was Dean's turn to narrow his eyes. "Damn it, Sammy," he growled under his breath. They had never actually _seen _a ghost, but they'd heard Dad talking about it to Uncle Bobby once. Dean knew how to handle one, just in case, but, no, he'd never actually seen one. But, heck, if a Shtriga couldn't scare him, (and he would take it to his grave that it hadn't scared _him _only scared him for what it had almost done to Sammy,) he felt sure a ghost wouldn't bother him, either.

"Now, aliens on the other hand…" Sammy added with an impish grin.

Dean gave him a shove and muttered, "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sammy shot back with a smile.

Okay, Dean could admit, aliens kinda freaked him out, but only because his dad had never talked about them, so, he wasn't sure his dad knew how to kill one. Anything else; werewolves, vampires, wendigos, shapeshifters, all that, their dad could kill. Aliens? Not so much. Freaky little green Martian dudes…

Ryan laughed. "Man, I wish I had a kid brother or sister."

"Why don't you?" Dean asked, not unkindly.

She shrugged. "I guess Mama and Daddy had enough trouble getting me. And, hey, I'm perfect, so, why try again, right?"

She got out the cards for rummy and Dean was watching her shuffle the cards with rapt attention when they heard Elaine call for supper. "To be continued," Ryan murmured as she stood.

"How do you know how to shuffle that well?" Dean wanted to know as he stood from his place on the floor next to Sammy.

She grinned. "Daddy's a good card player. Mama doesn't like for him to teach me to play poker and rummy, but he's really good at it. He wins money, sometimes, from the neighbor. It makes Mr. Thomas' wife so mad. They don't bet much, but Daddy's always been excellent at it."

"Think you could teach us?" Dean questioned with a challenge in his tone.

She smirked. "Tonight, after the grown-ups go to bed. We can play out on the back porch." She paused and challenged, "Think you can sneak away from Daddy Winchester?"

"Of course," Dean told her with confidence.

"Alright, then."

* * *

Sneaking away from John was easier than Dean thought. John had been given the guest room and Dean and Sam had been relegated to the sitting room floor. However, the adults stayed up until almost midnight talking and Sam passed out sometime after eleven. Dean laid there and listened to the sounds of the house quieting down, heard the gait of his father stop in the door of the room to check on them, before moving down the hall. Dean waited five more minutes when he heard the gentle footfalls of bare feet padding back up the hall. Ryan. He heard the slight squeak of the screen door leading onto the back porch. Dean stood from the sleeping bag and padded out to the kitchen, stopping to grab a soda from the fridge. He snagged a grape one for her and made his way out to the porch.

She had already set up the chips and was shuffling cards when he emerged. He watched her silently for a moment, taking her in. Her long hair was in soft waves down her back and she wore simple purple pajamas. The shirt was plain purple, but the pants had tiny purple flowers on them. She turned around as if hearing him and smiled. "Hey."

He walked over and sat the can next to her hand.

She looked at him in surprise. "Those are my favorite."

He shrugged. "I saw you drinking one at dinner."

She smiled. "Boys aren't that observant."

"I am," he puffed with a hint of pride. Not being observant could get a person killed. His dad had yet to take him out on a hunt, but he knew he would. He was prepared. John had trained him from the time he was younger than Sammy, so he was just waiting. What John was waiting for, he wasn't sure, but Dean would be ready.

She cocked her head to look at him a moment and he grew slightly warm at being under such scrutiny. "Alright, Winchester. Sit down and watch the master at work…"

Ryan showed him everything her father had taught her, and by the time the sky was pinkening in the east, he had beaten her twice. She threw down her cards in defeat and stood, stretching. "Wow. It's official, you're better at this than me."

"It's your tell," he murmured, blushing slightly as he, too, stood. They had discussed tells and she had showed him how he held his breath just slightly when he found he had a good hand, and how his left hand started drumming when he was bluffing.

"What's my tell?" she breathed as he moved closer.

"This," he reached his thumb to her mouth. "The right side of your mouth moves up, just a little bit, when you've got a good hand. And when you're bluffing, your eyes widen, just a little."

"Is that so?" she asked softly, leaning in.

He wasn't sure why they were whispering. "Yeah."

"Thanks."

He wasn't sure which one leaned in, but the next thing he knew, his lips were pressed to hers.

She tasted like grape and moonlight, which was weird, because moonlight didn't have a taste. She smelled like honeysuckle and girl.

She let out a whimper and he opened his eyes to take her in as she pulled away. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled a shy smile. She bit her lip and looked around. "I, uh, I guess we need to try to get to sleep, huh?"

He blinked once, twice, before shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, I, uh, I guess so."

They gathered up the chips and cards in silence, and he held the door open for her. At the door to the sitting room, she ran a hand down his arm to squeeze his hand before she grinned and walked away.

He walked to his pallet in a trance. Sam snorted and woke up. "Dean? You okay?"

Dean smiled and licked his lips. He could still taste her. "Yeah, I'm good. Go back to sleep, Sammy."

* * *

The next day Ryan had school, so she was gone by the time Dean emerged from the sitting room. Surprisingly, his father had let him sleep in, so it was almost eight o'clock by the time he woke, but that still meant he only had a few hours of sleep. He didn't know how she was going to survive the school day and briefly felt bad for keeping her up all night. But not bad enough to regret that kiss…

He and Sam made themselves scarce while Elaine puttered about, but then she called them for a late breakfast, feeding the boys waffles and bacon before she sent them off to watch movies and TV most of the day.

It was…weird. He wasn't worried about Sammy, wasn't worried about if the food money would run out, wasn't worried about if the salt lines stayed secure, and he wasn't worried about if the owner of the motel would try to come in and kick them out. Dean hadn't been a kid in forever, so this was like a vacation. So much so, it unnerved him. He'd never _had_ a vacation. So, when she came in with a dusting rag while he and Sammy were watching The Disney Channel, he jumped up and asked, "Can I help, Mrs. Fawcett?"

She blinked in surprised as Sam followed his lead and stood, waiting. "Well, aren't you two helpful? Sure, if you would like. I had been planning on having Ryan and her dad wash the windows this weekend. Say, I'll pay each of you five dollars if you'll do it. Sammy can clean the inside and Dean, you can grab the ladder from the shed and clean the outside. Would that work?"

Dean held in his surprise. They were going to do chores and get _paid_? Where did he sign up? "Yes, ma'am! That would be great!"

The two boys eagerly worked cleaning the windows then she offered them both an extra two dollars each to wash her minivan.

They came back in soaking wet and Mrs. Fawcett giggled as she handed them each a beach towel. Once he was dried and back in clean clothes, Dean left Sammy getting cleaned up and went to find her. To his surprise, she was looking at a photo album. She was sniffling, so he contemplated leaving her alone, but she must have sensed he was there, because she looked up and beckoned him over. He walked over and let out a gasp. The photos were all of his mom and a much younger, thinner looking Mrs. Fawcett. "This is one of Ryan's baby books. I was obsessed with taking pictures. I have a ton of you boys with your mom and dad, too. Would you like to see?"

Dean started nodding rapidly and she smiled through her tears as she patted the seat next to her on the couch.

She put the photo album in Dean's lap and he became engrossed in the pictures. There were a few of his mom, expecting him, with Mrs. Fawcett standing next to her, looking a little less like she'd swallowed a basketball than his mom, but not much. "That was about a week before your mom had you. She was so excited. I don't know what her family life was like growing up, but it seemed as though having kids, raising them, was one of the best jobs she could have."

Dean smiled as his finger touched her face in the picture. She was so beautiful. "I miss her," he said softly. "Sammy doesn't even know her, probably wouldn't recognize her if he saw her on the street. But I do."

Mrs. Fawcett smiled and hugged him around the shoulders. "Well, I know her death was tragic, but she loved you boys and your daddy. You were the best thing to ever happen to her. Never doubt that, okay?"

He bit his lip and nodded as he felt a tear slide down his face.

"Say, you want to make a little extra money?"

Dean nodded again. "Sure."

"Okay. You finish looking at this album, then, if you feel like it, I sure could use someone to weed the bushes out front."

He smiled and appreciated the fact she didn't call him out for crying like a baby over a picture of his mom. "Sounds good," he managed.

She left him alone, then, and Sammy didn't come looking for him, either. He looked through the album twice, memorizing each picture he saw with his mom in it before he stood and slipped it back onto the bookshelf. He went to find Mrs. Fawcett, and by the time Ryan's bus arrived, Dean had earned fifteen dollars and Sammy eight. "Are you sure this is okay?" Dean asked Mrs. Fawcett as she counted out the bills from her wallet. "I don't feel right taking your money. We're staying in your house for free and eating all your food. And Sammy eats like a pig."

Something passed through Mrs. Fawcett's eyes, something Dean couldn't quite figure out, but it left and a smile plastered itself on her face. "I'm sure, Dean. You boys helped me more than I can thank you for. And the car looks terrific. You go on and get Sammy, go play for a while now and have fun."

Dean walked to the sitting room where Sammy had dashed off to. "Dean! What are you gonna buy with your money? I think I want some Lego's, or maybe a Matchbox car…"

Dean rubbed the money in his hands with a sigh. Fifteen dollars would buy a bunch of Spaghetti-O's and Mac and Cheese next time their dad left on a hunt. If they stayed in neighborhoods, maybe he could start doing stuff like mowing lawns, but he figured motels were cheaper for their dad. Whatever. He stuck the money down in the hidden flap he'd cut in his duffle. His dad didn't need to know where he squirreled away extra money or pocket change he found when he washed their clothes at the Laundromat. Once, he'd found a twenty dollar bill. He's splurged on hamburgers and Oreos for him and Sammy that night and _real _Coca Cola, not the cheap, imitation stuff.

He smiled as he looked over at Sammy, who was making a list of all the things he wanted to buy. He shook his head and stood to go to the bathroom and almost walked into Ryan.

She gave him a shy smile. "Hi."

"Hi. You done with your homework?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nope, just came to get some water. I've got a big math test tomorrow."

The look on her face made him grin. It was a face of total disgust. "That bad?"

"Ugh, I hate math. I love to read, I love history, heck, I even like English class! But for the love of Christmas, don't make me do math!"

He laughed out loud. "I'm actually pretty good at math. Want me to help?" Math was his best subject. He was able to pick it up no matter how many times he missed school. He was a good reader, he just didn't like it, but English? He majorly sucked at English. History was fun, he liked learning about things that happened in the past. You never knew when you might need to know about the past to help with monster activity.

"Would you?" she asked before she hugged him. "Thank you, thank you!" she cried as she bounced up and down in his arms.

He smirked as she dashed away, back down the hall. _Wow. Well, that was…_yeah, he decided he liked her in his arms. Maybe tonight he could talk her into kissing him again.

He turned back to the sitting room. "Sam, I'm going to help Ryan with her math, okay?"

"Okay, Dean," Sam stated distractedly as he continued watching DuckTales.

Dean rolled his eyes and walked to Ryan's room.

He helped her with her math, she wasn't _that _terrible at it, then sat quietly, flipping through one of her Goosebumps books as she did her reading homework. "Is this supposed to be scary?" he asked as he threw the book down in distain.

She shrugged. "Doesn't scare me, but I guess so?"

He flipped around to lie on her bed. "You said you like Steven King movies? Which one is your favorite?"

"Cujo," she stated quickly.

"Wow. That took, like, two seconds. Why?"

She shrugged and sat her book down to look at him. "I dunno. I just like it. I've watched Christine, too."

"Dude! That was epic! But, man, if something ever possessed the Impala, I would freak. Can you imagine?"

She giggled. "I'm pretty sure ghosts don't possess cars, Winchester," she stated exasperatedly. "Only people, like Poltergeist. Now that was an awesome movie. Remind me not to go near any old Indian burial grounds anytime soon."

He eyed her. "Do you believe that stuff? Werewolves? Vampires? Ghosts?"

She thought a moment and shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, there's all these books about them and stuff. And, let's be real…if they wanted to hide, wouldn't it be better if they hid in plain sight? So, like, the first vampires wrote books like Dracula and stuff to throw people off their scent. If people _thought _they were fake, they would be able to hide better, because no one would be looking for them. Right?"

His mouth fell open. "Wow. Yeah, I mean, I thought that, too!"

She grinned.

Just then, they heard, "Kids! Dinner!"

Dean glanced at the lime green clock on her nightstand. "Dude, it's like, four thirty."

Ryan sighed. "I've got Girl Scouts tonight."

He smirked. "You got the cute little uniform and everything?"

She rolled her eyes. "As a matter of fact…"

"Would you wear it? Please?" He didn't know why he wanted to see her in it, he just wanted to.

She blushed prettily. "Okay," she murmured.

"Kids!" they heard again.

Suddenly, any hint of shyness was gone from her. "After dinner," she promised.

His eyes lit up and she giggled as she stood and held out a hand for him. "Come on, Dean." His heart made a swooping feeling as she used his first name. "Time to eat."

He looked at her hand uncertainly before he grasped it and she squeezed it as she led him back down the hall.

After an awesome dinner of roast and potatoes, and a sweet potato pie, which Dean had never had before, but loved as soon as it hit his tongue, he and Sam were sent outside to play so Mrs. Fawcett could clean up and Ryan could get ready for her meeting.

She came out of the house in her uniform and Dean let out a whistle. She had on a short skirt that showed just how long her legs were, even though she was still shorter than him, and a white button down shirt with a tan vest over the top with about a million and one patches on it.

He grinned as he saw her blush furiously and shake her head. "You wait until I get back, Winchester!" she called out daringly. "I'll show you how good at basketball I am!"

"How is that possible, shorty? You're shorter than Sam, and he sucks!"

"Hey!" Sammy shouted indignantly.

She giggled and they heard the minivan start. "I'll be back in two hours," she promised. "It should still be daylight enough for a quick game of H.O.R.S.E., and then I'll wipe the floor with your butt, Dean!"

"Promises, promises, shortcake!" he called after her.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean heard Mrs. Fawcett come home without Ryan, and since the boys were playing basketball, thought nothing of it as it got darker and darker. Finally, it was too dark to play anymore, and they went inside…where it was chaos. Ryan had vanished. One of the other moms was supposed to pick her up, but the troop leader had said she would take her home and now the leader and Ryan were both missing.

"Dad," Dean whispered, horrified as a thought crossed his mind. "She-she couldn't have been taken by the demon, could she?"

John didn't speak as he stood and made his way to the Impala. Dean followed after him and asked, "I'm right, aren't I, sir?"

John's face was grim as he got out his sawed off and his flask of holy water. "Yes, son, I'm afraid you might be."

"Why her?"

John shook his head. "I don't know." He paused and looked, really looked at Dean. "I'll find her."

"Promise?" Dean hated how young and small his voice sounded all of a sudden.

John nodded. "I swear it."

"Can I go?"

John shook his head again. "I called Bobby yesterday. He's meeting me here. I researched all day at the library. I have a good idea where the girls are being held. I was coming home to tell you when Eddie stopped me just inside the house. I didn't feel right leaving, but now, I'm certain that's where she is. What are the odds of anything else happening? You know I don't believe in coincidences."

"Why, sir? What do they want with little girls?"

John winced. "Son, I've done a crappy job of protecting you from the evil of the world. But trust me when I say this; you don't want to know. There are some things more horrifying than something supernatural. Human monsters can occasionally be even more terrifying than demons. But demonic monsters with men's desires…those are, without a doubt, the worst."

Dean paled. He'd had the sex talk. John had told him what it meant if and when the time came and a girl changed her mind or said no. He had also been told how some men didn't take no for an answer. "You don't think…?"

"I don't know," John answered. "But it's what my gut is telling me." He glanced at the house. "Eddie's rounding up a search party. It will be easy enough for me to slip out. Keep an eye on the house. On the off chance the demon decides to come here, be prepared."

"Should I salt the windows and doors?"

John shook his head. "No. Not with Elaine here. But take a bag into the sitting room. Gather up the salt in the house, too, just in case." Dean grabbed a half empty duffle from the back of the car and started putting things into it. John also gave Dean another of the shotguns and a large hunting knife. "Be safe." He handed his son one more item, his journal. Dean looked at him in awe. He'd never let Dean keep the journal before.

"Guard this with your life. If, on the off chance, you would need it, the exorcism incantation is in there. Familiarize yourself with it."

Dean assumed his dad must have it memorized since he didn't need to take it with him. "Dad…I've never even spoke those words."

"And now I see I've lacked in that aspect. You'll start Latin Monday."

Dean held in the groan and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Look after Sammy. I'll be back as soon as I can." Dean watched with trepidation as his father cranked the car, shifted it in gear, and then drove away. Usually he felt confident when John left. Tonight, he felt like a scared little kid.

Dean squared his shoulders. He couldn't be scared. He had to protect Sammy and Mrs. Fawcett. That was his job. He hiked the duffle up onto his shoulder and took all of the gear he'd grabbed into the house.

A cursory glance around showed that the men had left for the search party, as well. Good. Mrs. Fawcett was sitting with another woman, who was hugging her. He left them alone and went in search of his brother.

"Dean?" Sammy asked as he walked back into the sitting room.

"Sammy, Dad's gone hunting, okay?"

Sam's eyes grew wide. "Here? Now?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, so, let's just stay outta everybody's way and hang out in here, okay?"

Sam didn't say anything, just sat back down on the small sofa and Dean joined him, bringing the journal with him. "Is that…?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, it is."

"Why you got it?"

"Dad said if we needed it, everything is in there."

"Wh-What will we need?"

Dean didn't answer. Instead, he opened the book and began to read.

An hour passed. Then two. And finally at the three hour mark, the police called. An anonymous tip had led them to a barn outside the town. All the girls had been murdered except Ryan, who miraculously looked unscathed. Her Girl Scout leader hadn't been quite so lucky, and she had been found in her car with her throat slashed.

Dean's eyes narrowed as the two police officers brought Ryan in. Elaine shuffled her in to the bathroom to take a steaming bath and quickly came back to offer her thanks to the two men. Dean muttered under his breath, "Christo," but when neither of them made any odd movements, he just figured his dad was letting the cops handle this aspect of Ryan's rescue. It still didn't explain why his dad wasn't back yet, but he figured John had decided to go have a celebratory drink with Bobby. Any other thoughts were unacceptable. Besides, there was no way a demon got the better of his dad _and_ Uncle Bobby.

Mrs. Fawcett turned to Dean and Sammy. "Dean, you go and get ready for bed. Oh, my goodness. Can you handle looking after your brother? I'll see to Ryan…"

Dean nodded and watched as she made her way out of the room to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He hadn't gotten the chance to see if Ryan was really alright. But he would check on her in a little bit.

He turned to his brother. "Okay, Sam. It's time for bed. Since they're in Ryan's bathroom, I guess we can just go to Mr. and Mrs. Fawcett's bathroom to brush our teeth and stuff."

Sam just huffed and stood from the sofa. Dean knew Sammy knew not to argue with him. John wasn't there, so Dean was parent at the moment. Both boys got ready for bed and Sammy was putting on his pajamas when it occurred to Dean he hadn't heard a peep from any of the house's other occupants in a while. "Sam, go ahead and watch a few minutes of TV. I wanna check on Ryan and her mom, okay?"

"Is it 'cuz you're in looooove with Ryan?"

Dean felt his cheeks turn pink, so, naturally, he narrowed his eyes and muttered, "Bitch," under his breath.

"Jerk," Sam called back cheerfully as he grabbed the remote control.

As Dean started down the hall, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He fervently wished he had gone against his dad's orders and salted all the doors and windows. Something just didn't feel right.

He reached the end of the hall and a shimmer caught his eye. A red shimmer. A pool of red; shimmering and growing on the floor from under the door. Blood. "Damn it!" he whisper-yelled. He backed slowly down the hall and waited, listening. He couldn't hear anything, so he wasn't sure what that meant. But a pool of blood coming out of a room with two people in it was never good. He made it to the door of the sitting room and said as calmly as he could, "Sammy, get the salt."

Sam's frightened face looked up. "Wh-why?"

Dean's mouth was dry. "I, uh, I think we've got a live one, bud."

"Dean…"

"Salt. Now," Dean snapped as he strode to his duffle where his shotgun and knife were waiting. He fingered the shotgun, and handed it over to Sammy. "Take this. Salt the windows and lay down a line across this door." He grabbed the can of spray paint he luckily had snagged from the trunk of his dad's car and tossed it to his brother. "Make a devil's trap." He'd read about them earlier. The book said if you drew the odd shapes, you could trap a demon. He only hoped his dad's journal was right.

"D-Dean, I-I've never made one! I don't even know what one looks like! What if I screw it up!?"

Dean closed his eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart. "Look, dude, just do it. If it doesn't work, at least we tried. Look in Dad's journal. It's in there, a picture of it, even. Draw it just like that. I know you're a good artist..."

"Are-are you sure?"

Dean heard movement in the other part of the house and he swallowed hard. "Look, I'm not sure of anything, Sammy, but I know we got something wicked in this house and we're the only two that can handle it."

"Stay here with me!" Sam whined.

Dean shook his head. "Either that demon scum is here to finish Ryan off, or it's got something creepier in mind. Either way, I gotta try to trap it so Dad can exorcise it."

"Dean! We can't take on a demon!"

"What choice do we have, Sammy?! Keep that gun trained on the door. If anything besides me comes through this door, you blast it full of salt. The book says that will help somehow. I don't know, but if Dad's book says it, it will work. Draw the devil's trap, listen for me. If I manage to get it, I'll have to bring it in here."

"O-okay, Dean."

Dean hated seeing his baby brother so scared, but he had to do this. They had to do this. They had to save Ryan if they could.

Dean tiptoed back down the hall and made it to the bathroom door. He opened it and gasped as he saw Mrs. Fawcett lying in a pool of her own blood. The tub was still running and the water was beginning to spill over the sides, making the red of her blood turn pink, turning the white floor into a garish pool. The knife shook, just ever so slightly in his hand as he felt a presence behind him, and it definitely was _not _Sammy. He turned quickly and stabbed blindly as Ryan flung him across the room.

Her eyes were black as the demon inside her peered out and they narrowed at the blade buried in her stomach. She pulled it out and tossed it to the floor. "Dean Winchester. Well, I would say it was an honor, but I would be lying."

"Wh-what do you want? How do you know me?" Dean demanded through his fear. How did the thing know his name?

She grinned. "Never mind that. Oh, but let me tell you, this little girl _does _have a thing for you."

"You-you get out of her, you freak!"

Demon-Ryan cackled and clapped her blood drenched hands together. "Oh, what would be the fun in that? Do you know what my little band of friends and I do to innocent little girls? It's so much fun. Why would I want that to end?"

She moved her way closer to him as she used her powers to pin him to the wall. "Do you know what Ryan dreamed about? She dreamed you would come rescue her. You would ride up on a white horse and save her. Isn't that sweet? As we were slicing her and tearing her apart from the inside out, all she wanted was for her knight in shining armor to rescue her." Her face turned mocking. "Guess she's more of a girly-girl than you thought, huh?" She lined her body with his as she whispered in his ear. "She's a sweet piece, Dean. If you play nice with me, I'll let you play with her."

"No!" Dean managed. "You leave her alone! She's innocent!"

"Ha!" The demon sauntered across the room, away from him. "She's not so innocent anymore. My boys and I made sure of that."

"You sick fuck!" Dean growled.

Demon-Ryan's eyebrow rose. "Oh, aren't you cute? Using big boy words and everything. Yes, Ryan was quite right to want you, to dream of you as a boyfriend. To think you could even be someone she could fall in love with. You've got heart, spirit. I think I would enjoy using your meat-suit, boy. Oh, the boss would be thrilled to know I had the Winchester brat…"

She opened her mouth and smoke began pouring out of her when they both heard, "Hey! Freak!"

The smoke went back into her and she narrowed her eyes as she turned to see Sammy standing there. "Hello, Sammy."

"Come get me!" he shouted as he ran back down the hall.

Her attention was diverted and Dean felt her grip on him slip as he slid down the wall to the floor. He scooped up the knife from the floor as he took off like a shot after his baby brother and the demon. "Sammy, no!" he shouted before he heard a scream.

He ran into the room to see her rooted to a spot on the floor standing on a rug. "Dean! It worked!" Sammy shouted in pride.

"Dude. You put down a devil's trap and hid it under a rug? Genius!" Dean grinned at him, proud of his brother.

"You two little brats!" the demon shouted.

Dean turned toward the demon. "Oh, we're not just brats. We're the brats that are going to send you straight to hell." He held out his hand. "Give me Dad's journal."

"D-Dean…are you sure you can exorcise her? Shouldn't we wait for Dad?"

Dean shook his head. "Ryan's in there, Sam. I stabbed her in the gut. And from what the demon said, they-they did…things to her. She needs a doctor before it's too late. Lemme try, please?" He hated the pleading tone of his voice, but he just _had _to save this girl. She called for him, wanted him to save her. He had to try.

Sammy's hands were shaking as he handed over their father's journal. "O-okay, Dean. I trust you."

Dean looked until he found the appropriate page, cleared his throat, and began. "Ex-Exorcizamus te omini im-imundis spiritus, omis…"

The demon cackled again. "Come on, boy. You've gotta _feel _it. Do you really want to save this bitch I'm riding?"

Dean's voice grew louder and stronger. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis iegio, omnis congretatio et secta diabolica…"

The demon started shaking her head side to side and Dean could see the black smoke beginning to ooze out of her.

"Ergo, draco maiedicte, ecciesiam tuam securi tibi facias iiberatate servire, te rogamus!"

With that, the black smoke started pouring from her and Dean sneered. "Adios, bitch."

Ryan crumpled to the floor and Dean yelled, "Sammy, call 911!"

"What do I tell them, Dean?"

"Make up something. Make it good." He crawled into the devil's trap and put Ryan's head in his lap. "Ryan? Sweetheart, come on. Come back to me." It was then he noticed the blood flowing from her, from almost everywhere it seemed. "Come on, Ryan. Wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open. "D-Dean?"

He blew out a relieved breath. "Yeah, Ry, I'm here."

"You're here? You really saved me?"

He nodded. "It was a demon. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"S'okay," she slurred. "I remember…"

"Shhhh, don't talk, okay? It's fine. You'll be fine…"

"N-no, don't think so," she managed.

"Sure you will. You'll be up before you know it. You still have to kick my ass at basketball, right?"

"S-sorry. Raincheck?"

He felt something warm and wet sliding down his face. He sniffled. "Yeah, okay. But you owe me, Fawcett."

"S-sure, D-Dean…"

"Ryan? Ryan!" he yelled as he shook her. He could hear the ambulances in the distance.

* * *

"Sam! Dean!" Dean heard his father shout.

"That's my dad," he said flatly to the officer questioning him.

The officer shot him a look, but didn't speak as he stepped aside and John strode into the crime scene. "Boys!"

"Dad!" Sammy shouted and ran to hug him. Dean held back though, out of respect. He had long quit asking for hugs from his father. He wouldn't put on a show for these people.

"What happened?" John demanded.

"Your sons saved a girl's life, sir," the police officer stated.

John's brows knit. "What happened?" he asked again.

"Some big dude broke in the house," Sammy began excitedly. "Dean and me hid. He didn't know we were here. He hurt Ryan and killed Mrs. Fawcett. He left and me and Dean called 911."

John's eyebrow rose and his eyes cut to Dean, who nodded. John blew out a breath. "Well, that's…that's some tale."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" The cop didn't seem like he bought the story, but Dean had tried to sell it as best he could. It was plausible, he supposed. The cop gave John his card and said they would be in touch and left the Winchesters alone on the lawn.

"What really happened?" John whispered as soon as the man was out of earshot.

Dean quickly went into explaining what actually happened and John's eyes grew. "You boys mean to tell me you not only laid a devil's trap, but you exorcised a demon?"

"Y-yes sir," Dean stated, somewhat frightened. Had they not done the right thing?

To his surprise, John grabbed them both up into a hug. "You did good work today, boys. Without you, I'm sure that little girl would be dead."

"Dad, did you and Uncle Bobby get the others?"

John nodded. "That's why I wasn't back here sooner. There were two others. Bobby chased one, I chased the other. And you boys got the third one. Tonight is a victory against those evil sons of bitches."

Dean thought about the girl with the now-ruined life, hanging on by a thread. He'd heard what the paramedics had said. Severe internal injuries. Broken bones out the wazoo. Possible sexual assault. No, he wasn't sure Ryan would feel it was a victory. And somewhere deep in his heart, he counted it as a loss.

**AN2: How we doing, guys? Still with me? Next chapter is a bit heavy, too. It gets kinda fun after that. For a while, at least. LOL. Then it gets weird. *grin* **


	3. Let Me Put My Love Into You

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or Dean Winchester. Man, do I wish I did! Especially after this past season. :) **

**DISCLAIMER TWO: Trigger Warnings ahead toward the end for brief discussions of torture and rape. Just a warning. It isn't graphic.**

AN: So…just FYI, for the role of adult Ryan Fawcett I'm picturing Danneel. I mean, we already know she has awesome chemistry with Jensen, LOL, and honestly, by the time I'm finished with this story, you'll think she was the perfect actress to "play" Ryan.

* * *

TEN YEARS LATER

Dean rubbed the chrome of the Impala with an old rag, making it shine. "Like that, don't ya, Girl? One day, Baby, you'll be mine. Dad will have to give you up eventually. Then it's just you and me on the open road. Ganking sons of bitches and killing anything evil in our path."

Just then, John emerged from the hotel room. "Got us a case."

Dean looked up and grinned. "Great. Where?"

"North Carolina."

Dean felt the pang in his chest. There had been a lot of people saved since that fateful night, but only one had cut him deeply like not being able to save Ryan. "Where, sir?"

"Appalachian State University. Sounds like a ghost."

"Terrific," Dean deadpanned. "Some spook scaring co-eds? Well, I guess I'm game."

John just looked at him. "We are going to do a job, not chase skirts, son. Think you can keep the two straight and use your brain?"

Dean grinned. "Yes, sir. That doesn't mean I can't use other things while I'm there."

"When the case is finished," John reminded him.

Dean nodded. "Absolutely, sir."

John sighed. "Let's get moving."

The drive took ten hours from where they were in Ohio, but when they switched off driving in the early afternoon, it allowed them to arrive at the college in time for classes to be finished and students to be milling around for dinner.

Dean stood from the car and whistled as he saw a group of girls in short-shorts. It was still cool in the North Carolina Mountains for it to be May, but these girls didn't seem to care about their comfort as they showed off gorgeous long legs.

John cleared his throat and Dean focused on his father. "I'll go in, speak to campus security. You…scout."

Dean's eyes lit up and John reprimanded, "The case, Dean. Ghost. Possible Vengeful Spirit? Dead people? Ring any bells?"

"My bells are ringing, alright," he muttered under his breath, but to his father, he just nodded and "Yes sir'd" him.

They agreed to meet up a few hours later at one of the campus bars and they went their separate ways. Dean's eyes lit on a group of girls standing around talking and he grinned as he headed their way. This could prove to be fun…

* * *

Three hours later, Dean sighed as he plopped his ass onto a chair at one of the small tables in Hooligans, one of the local's haunts. The song changed from some bubble gum pop to "Smooth" and Dean had to admit, some of Carlos Santana's choices for his re-do album weren't half bad. It wasn't terrific, but, hey, he could still kill the fuck out of a guitar solo.

The waitress came over and he asked for a beer. She shot him a look and he grinned as he pulled out his driver's license. Finally, he was legal to drink without the use of a fake ID. Not that the ID he showed off was real, but at least he didn't need it, per se. She nodded and told him she would be right back.

He blew out a breath as he waited and reflected his day. Most of it had been a waste of time. He'd heard quite a lot of interesting stories, but none that really sounded like their kind of thing, just stupid urban legend crap. He had also acquired a few telephone numbers, but that information, he would keep to himself.

The waitress came back over and dropped his beer off and Dean gave her an appreciative grin. She smirked and muttered, "Taken," to which he just shrugged. There were plenty of fish in the sea. And this sea of co-eds was bountiful. He sipped his beer and glanced around, waiting. John would come along when he was good and ready. Dean was used to waiting for his father.

He peopled watched a few minutes, noticing some of the happy groups of friends gabbing at the table next to him. He sighed. Sammy was already talking about wanting to go to college. He just knew that was going to be a disaster. John would never allow Sam that far out of his sight and they couldn't just sit on their asses four years waiting for Sam to graduate. Sam was headstrong in ways Dean would never be. He couldn't understand why his younger brother couldn't just go with what their dad said. John had never given them a reason to doubt his word, no matter what the issue. Why was this any different? Besides, did he really _need _to go to college? The kid was smart, smarter than Dean, most definitely, but their lives were going to be short. You didn't live to be an old man if you were a hunter. What was the point of going to college if you were just going to die young anyway? Dean had the feeling Sam wanted out of the family biz and that just wouldn't work. John would never let him walk away. And why would he even want to? This was their life now. Maybe, a few years ago, Dean would have agreed with Sammy, but now, he'd gotten a taste, the thrill of the hunt, and he liked it. Maybe that made him a bad person, he wasn't sure.

He took a swig of his beer and noticed a gorgeous girl walk in. She seemed wary, the way hunters often were, and he briefly wondered what was causing her to be so cautious. She walked over to start a conversation with the waitress who had delivered his beer. It was the way she held herself, he decided, that intrigued him. Like she was prepared to be jumped at any second. He briefly wondered if maybe there _was _something here and they weren't the only hunters in town.

Just then, he caught sight of his father walking in and sat up a bit straighter. He knew John would want a full report. He waited for his father to slip into the chair across from him and held up a hand for the waitress to bring over two beers before he said, "Sorry, Dad. I found nothing but dead ends. There was a girl killed, apparent stabbing, but I'm not convinced it's our kind of thing."

"The phone call I received says otherwise," John bit out.

"Did you find anything?" Dean inquired.

John nodded. "A few things, actually." He tipped his head in thanks as the waitress sat the beer down in front of him. He took a swig and waited for her to move on to the next table before he spoke. "Couple of people have seen and heard of a ghost. Some lonely college student killed herself over on Howard's Knob about twenty years ago, another about five. Looks like we'll have to pull up Microfiche and check the papers."

"Great. Research." That was usually Sammy's job, but Dean had begged to let Sam stay with Pastor Jim. He was in high school now and a hell of a lot smarter than Dean. If Sammy _were _going to go to college, then, Dean supported him. Besides, if he wanted a full ride, (which would be the _only _way John would probably even agree to college in the first place) then, he needed to stay in school and get decent grades. This skipping was too hard on Sam. Surprisingly, John had agreed. Sam had been sad to see them leave, but Dean knew his brother well enough to know Sam was relieved to be staying behind and concentrating only on school work instead of researching monsters.

"It's what helps us in our jobs, Dean. You don't have to like it. You just have to do it."

Dean checked his watch. "Library's closed now, Dad. Wanna break in, or wait for morning?"

"Excuse me," they heard a soft, feminine, slightly southern accent start.

Dean turned to find the pretty brunette standing there, the one he'd noticed earlier that moved like a hunter. She was around 5' 7", with dark, reddish brown hair that hung in soft waves down her back, whiskey colored eyes and a small smile showing off perfect white teeth. She was dressed conservatively in a long sleeve plaid shirt over a ribbed tank and a sweater wrapped around her waist by its sleeves. She had on a pair of those delectable short-shorts and hiking boots on her feet. She looked like one of the hippie chicks he'd noticed while scouting the campus as she hiked her backpack further up her arm. Well, hell, hippie or not, he was game. He put on his patented panty-dropping smile. "Hey, sweetheart. Want a drink?"

She rolled her eyes and ignored him as she turned to John. "Are you John Winchester?"

Both men sat up a little straighter, suspicious. "Who wants to know?" John asked guardedly.

Her eyes held disbelief for a moment before she gasped. "It _is _you!" And before either of the men could react, she had thrown her arms around John. "I knew I would eventually see you again."

"I'm sorry, princess, who are you?" Dean questioned, caution, he felt sure was written all over his face. She moved like a hunter and she knew them. This was causing his spidey senses to tingle a bit.

She turned back to him and smiled with a funny look on her face. "Dean? You're definitely Dean. Where is Sam? Is he here?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetheart, back the truck up. Who are you and how do you know us?" Dean demanded gruffly.

She shook her head and sighed. "Maybe you don't remember me. I'm sure you go around saving people all the time. I'm Ryan. Ryan Fawcett."

And just like that, Dean's world kind of crashed around him. "Wh-what?" He hadn't realized…he really thought she'd died. They'd booked it out of North Carolina before the cops could come and question them anymore that night, so he had never gotten to see her. He wondered if she had felt abandoned by him. It had bothered him more than he cared to admit.

She smiled and pulled a chair up to their table. "Ryan. Fawcett. You saved my life? Excised a demon from me. We were eleven. Any of this sounding familiar?"

Dean blinked. "O-of course I remember. I just…wow." She grew up. Into a beautiful woman. _Holy shit._

He was still trying to recover when she looked over at John and smiled. "Is he always this verbose?"

John chuckled under his breath, much to Dean's surprise. John rarely smiled and never chuckled. Clearly this girl was something special if she could get John Winchester to crack. Or maybe, he was like Dean, and glad to see someone they'd actually saved. They didn't often meet many people after the fact. It was refreshing, to say the least. "What can we do for you, Ryan?"

"Well, I assume you're here because of the ghost?"

John nodded. "What do you know of it?"

She bit her lip and looked around. "Not here. Come back with me to my place. We can talk in private."

She stood and waited for them. John gave Dean a little "Why not?" shrug of his shoulders and they too, stood. Dean threw some cash down on the table and they followed her outside

She went and propped herself against a beautiful black Ford Falcon. If Dean were to guess, he would say…1965 model? Dean let out a low whistle. "Damn. She's a beauty."

She let out a snort. "Even though she's a Ford?"

She wasn't wrong…Chevy's were the best. "Hey, you said it, not me."

She laughed and it was an airy sort of sound that traveled to his gut. "Yeah, well, she's not an Impala, I guess," Ryan conceded.

"She yours?"

She nodded as her fingers trailed the glossy black paint and Dean had to control himself. That simple act shouldn't be seductive, but it was. "She was my grandfather's. He never had the money to fix her up and Daddy never had the inclination to sell her, so now she's mine."

Dean lightly fingered the shiny black paint, himself. He couldn't help it. "Well, she's gorgeous." _Like her owner, _he thought. _The things I could do to you on this car…_he gave himself a mental headshake. _Dude. The case. Get your mind out of your pants for a minute. _But she was gorgeous. Both the beautiful ladies before him were.

She smiled. "Thanks. You wanna follow me? My apartment isn't far."

"Sure, Ryan," John told her. "Just lead the way."

She shot them both a smile and Dean watched as those long legs disappeared into the car. She cranked it and he let out a moan of ecstasy as he heard the vehicle's V-8 engine roar and he grinned as suddenly, "Let Me Put My Love Into You" blasted out of it before she shut her door. _Fuck_, he thought as he discreetly adjusted himself.

He looked over the Impala at his dad, who grinned. "Well, she's got good taste in music."

Dean laughed and they both slipped into the car and quickly took off after her.

They followed her back to a modest apartment building. The drive didn't take long because Dean heard "You Shook Me (All Night Long)" by the time he got out of the Impala and began walking towards her car. He would love a chance to get behind the wheel of it. He briefly wondered if she had done any of the work on it herself. She didn't seem the type, but, then, she didn't seem the type to like classic cars and decent rock music, either. She cut the engine and was looking through a bag, singing under her breath when he made it to her now open door. Her voice was soft, melodic, and the breathy quality with which she was singing was doing nothing to help his attraction to her.

She turned to get out and gasped to find him standing before her. He hadn't realized he'd snuck up on her, though, with the engine and the blaring music, it wasn't a surprise he'd managed it. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he muttered.

She took a few deep, cleansing breaths before she shook her head. "No damage done, you just shocked me. You move like a ninja."

He grinned. "And you didn't hear me because of your selection of music." He paused. "Nice tunes, by the way," he offered.

She shot him a wry smile. "I figured you would enjoy that, _Mr. Young._"

"Damn it, Dean," his father groused from behind him and Dean winced. "Can you quit with the rock aliases?"

Dean smiled and shrugged as he turned to his father. "Come on, Dad. It was some chick that I was talking to earlier. She looked like you had to pump her head with air for her to have a thought. No way she even knew _who _the hell Angus Young was."

"He's right, Mr. Winchester," Ryan stated softly. Both men turned to her and she chuckled. "Wendi is more of an *NSYNC fan, so, I'm sure she wouldn't know good music if it fell on her and started to wiggle."

Both men chortled at that. "Don't tell me you like those hacks," Dean began.

She looked at him a moment in thought before she said, "Nah, I'm more of a Backstreet girl."

His mouth fell open in surprise and she laughed as she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm kidding! I like music with soul. Not this crap you can't even appreciate. It's all fake now, just like cars. Plastic and cheap metal. What ever happened to the good shit, you know?"

"Exactly!" Dean crowed as she led them to the last door on the first floor. "I mean, it's all these synthesizers and voice edits and don't even get me started on what a joke these fake musicians are."

She nodded as she unlocked three deadbolts and led the way into her place. "I know. I mean, seriously, they can't even play any musical instruments!"

Dean looked down and grinned at the salt lining the doorway and stepped into and out of a devil's trap. He looked up to find her watching him. "Want us to drink holy water?"

She smirked. "You already did. I spiked your beers when Christa wasn't looking. Had to make sure you were you before I walked over. I didn't recognize you. Ten years made you grow up, Winchester. But your dad, he hasn't changed a bit."

"Nice place you've got, Ryan. Secure," John commented as he, too, stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah, well, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Tangling with demons once in my life was once too many."

She said it so matter-of-factly that Dean winced. To cover it, he said, "So, you know about how to protect yourself. What else have you learned?"

"I figured out you are hunters, well, Mr. Winchester, you are. I naturally assumed you were, too, Dean. But where is Sammy?"

"He's finishing up this year of high school. So he's with a friend," John answered.

She nodded. "Good. I'm glad he's…alive."

Dean chuckled flatly at that. "Yeah, alive is always good, isn't it?"

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment before she walked to the small kitchen area and grabbed two more beers from the fridge. "Here, since you didn't finish yours." She snagged a bottle of water and took a sip before she began, "So, I've done some research, and I think I know who and what this is. But, since I'm not a hunter, I thought I'd better let you handle it. I'm the one that called you, Mr. Winchester."

"John," he stated absently. "But it's good you called me. You don't need to get hurt, Ryan," he told her.

She shrugged. "Too late for that. I'm the ghost's type. I'm just waiting for it to come get me."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed. "Are you serious? Why didn't you lead with that, damn it?"

She just looked at him. "What difference does that make? You're here, I'm here, I've got research done, it ends up being the same thing. Hell, use me for bait if you want, I don't care."

"Why?" Dean demanded.

She shrugged once more. "Nothing. Never mind. Let me show you what I have…"

She spent the next hour going over what she had found. She had narrowed it down to two possible vengeful spirits. She admitted she wasn't certain how to end a ghost, though, so they filled her in on salting and burning the bones.

"So…how do we know who it is?" she asked as she finished giving her report. Dean couldn't help but be surprised and amazed at the girl. She had handled things calmly and professionally. She would make one hell of a hunter if she chose to. And now, seeing the way she moved, realizing who she was, what she already knew, all the puzzle pieces fit into place. She basically _was _a hunter, or at least, someone that knew enough about the supernatural world to be wary of everything else.

He watched her glance at her papers spread out on the table. "Michael Jeffries had a beef with a woman who cheated on him with his best friend, killed her and her twin sister for grins and giggles. And then Richard Monroe killed a woman for basically the same thing, also slashing up his secretary just because he felt like it. All the women were brunettes. Once a decade, two brunettes are killed. The cops haven't made a connection because the last two deaths were ten years ago. The only reason I made the connection at all is because of the woman murdered two nights ago. We've got until tomorrow night to figure out who it is, or I'm next."

"Why you?" Dean asked.

She snagged his beer and took a sip, much to his chagrin. He wasn't used to women being as…he didn't know what. Ryan was throwing him off his game and he couldn't pinpoint why. She was forward but she was shy. She was confident, but she seemed insecure. And what was with the mixed signals? Ignoring him in the bar and now drinking his beer?

She winced slightly. "God, this sucks. I've got Jack Daniels. Who wants whiskey?" At their looks, she smirked and turned to reach up into a cabinet and pulled down a bottle. He watched as she poured some into three coffee mugs and quickly drank one down. "Who knows?" she answered as she turned back to them. "Maybe because I remind him of his honey. Maybe because I'm living alone…"

"But, you don't have a boyfriend, do you? Much less two? That doesn't fit the profile." _Please, for the love of _God _do not have a boyfriend…_not that he would bang her tonight. Well, maybe. If she was willing, and they managed to burn this spirit to the ground…it was something to think about.

She shot Dean a look. "Thanks for noticing I'm a social pariah, Winchester. That's not what I meant."

He winced as she pulled out the pictures of the other victims. He would have to apologize for that comment. He hadn't meant it like that. He was just stating a fact. Right? A glance around the room didn't show any guy stuff, so she didn't have anyone living with her of the male persuasion. And if she _did _have a boyfriend, wouldn't he _be _here since a ghost had the hots for her?

"Look at these women, then look at me. We. Look. Identical. And the other girl, Mandy, that was killed? She and I look so much alike, even our friends confuse us, and have, more than once. Of course, then she opened her mouth and people realized she was a dumbass, and I'm brilliant, but, hey, it's outside packaging."

Dean chuckled. _Well, at least she knows how good she is. _

Dean could see John thinking before he stated, "So, he's basing it on looks, not anything else."

She nodded. "Exactly."

"Well, that's it, isn't it?" Dean couldn't contain his excitement. He'd figured it out. It all made sense, when you thought about it. The other two looked at him. "It's got to be Jeffries. He killed his wife and her twin. So, if it's based on looks, it's got to be him."

John shut the book he was looking at with a snap. "Exactly. I'll go break into the library, see if I can find out where he's buried. Dean, you stay with her," he tacked on as he stood.

"Why?" Dean asked. Not that he minded, he just figured the old man would want him to handle the digging. That was usually his job. Wasn't that why Dean was the grunt?

"Why?" Ryan wanted to know in chorus with Dean.

"Because Dean knows how to handle vengeful spirits and you don't, Ryan. Because he's dealt with them before. And because you asked for our help." He turned to the door. "We're going to get a few supplies, Ryan. We'll be right back. Round up all the salt you have and anything iron, too. Dean'll be back in shortly."

Both men walked to the Impala and Dean began, "I could go in your stead, Dad."

John shook his head. "Nah. I got this. Stay. Watch her. Be on guard until I call you to say it's done, alright?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, sir." He grabbed his shotgun, extra salt shells, a bag of salt, one of the two tire irons, and after waving off his father, walked back to the apartment deep in thought.

He hadn't mentioned the fact that they had saved this girl's live once before, but Dean wondered what John thought about it. He was still floored by the revelation, that the girl he'd thought he watched die was alive and kicking, _and beautiful, but don't focus on that, Dean. _He wondered what she had gone through, what horrors she had survived there. He'd never met anyone that had been possessed and it freaked him out a bit, to be honest. Demons weren't something they tangled with very often. His dad was hell-bent on finding the thing that killed their mom, but usually they handled monsters. Werewolves, spirits, witches, not demons. They hadn't tangled with demon often since that fateful night and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if their father had done that on purpose, kept them away from demons. It was something to think about.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and stepped inside her apartment. He flipped the locks, checked the salt line once more, then walked to the small kitchen to find Ryan pulling something out of the freezer.

"You like pizza?" she asked.

He noticed she had sat her backpack on the countertop and it was wide open revealing an iron fire poker, two salt cellars, and a flask he'd bet money had holy water in it. Huh. He grinned. She was good. Even if she wasn't a hunter. "Yeah, pizza's great."

It took a few minutes for the pizza to cook so he went about checking her wards, impressed by the job she had done to secure herself. The odds of the ghost finding its way in to hurt her were slim to none, but that didn't mean he wasn't cautious as he laid a salt circle for her to jump into, just in case, before he sat at the small kitchen table with the gun sitting next to him.

Her eyebrow rose as she brought the pizza over. "Well, you're certainly making me feel all secure, Dean," she deadpanned.

He chuckled. "Can't be too careful, Ryan." He held up one of the rounds. "Salt round. Good for shooting demons or ghosts. It won't make the ghost stay away, but it'll blast their asses apart for a few minutes."

"Good to know."

They ate in silence for a few moments before a clock chimed somewhere with a soft tune. His brow furrowed. "Is that 'Unchained Melody'?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I got the clock at an auction. It's pretty."

"You've, uh, got a nice place. It doesn't look like a college student's apartment."

Her eyebrow rose. "You mean what with all the salt lines and devil's traps?"

He chuckled. "No, that part looks like someone who's prepared. I'd feel safe sleeping here."

She nodded. "It's my safe haven."

"Are you scared a lot?" _Shit! Don't ask her that! _He blinked. "What I mean is, I don't often get to talk to people after…all that, you know?"

She paused a moment and then shook her head. "No. I'm…I'm not scared. I was, I was terrified for years. But then I started reading and researching demons. And then I found out ways to stay safer." She pulled a necklace out from under her shirt. "I found this, it's supposed to be an anti-possession sigil."

He admired the pendant. It looked like a pentagram star with fire blazing around it. "It's pretty."

She snorted. "One of the really religious girls saw it one day and flipped her shit, thought I was a devil worshiper. Little does she know I'm about as far from devil worship as I can get."

He grinned. "Not a lot of people understand it. And they don't really want to, do they?"

She shook her head. "People want to pretend true evil doesn't exist. We know better."

"I'm not sure if that makes us better off or not," he admitted.

She laid her hand on his arm. "I dunno, I'd rather know what's out there, myself. At least if I know what may be laying in wait, I can be prepared. Not being prepared…well, I know it isn't what got me kidnapped, but it just seems like those monsters wouldn't attack if they thought everyone knew about them, you know?"

He laid his hand on top of hers. "I wish we could to back in time and fix it, Ryan. I wish we could just…"

"Don't," she whispered as a tear ran down her face. "Don't, Dean. We can't change it and we can't fix it. One of the things my therapists drilled into my head was 'you can't change the past. You can only accept it and move on.' That's what I've done. Accepted it and moved on."

He eyed her thoughtfully. Had she? Had she really moved on? He didn't want to sound like Oprah, but he had the distinct impression she wasn't living her life, not really. But he wasn't a chick-flick kind of guy. Well, with the exception of Thelma and Louise, but that was self explanatory. And he would never admit to watching Steel Magnolias. It was just…on…and Julia Roberts was hot. Enough said.

He cleared his throat. "So, college girl, what are you going for?"

She shrugged. "I'm just going for my MBA. Nothing exciting. I just figured if I went into business, I could do whatever I wanted." She snorted. "At least I'm not taking Psychology. Although, God knows, with all the therapy I've had, I'm an expert in the field."

It wasn't funny, it really wasn't, but he couldn't help the chuckle. "Do you do that a lot?"

"What? Self depreciating humor?" She grinned. "It's my best coping mechanism."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He did the same thing on almost a daily basis. Sometimes the only way to handle shit was to laugh about it.

They were both quiet a moment before they realized he was still holding her hand. She pulled it away as if surprised at herself and he didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so he asked, "How's your dad? I bet he's really proud of you being in college."

She wiped her mouth with her napkin and stated solemnly, "He died. About three years ago."

"I'm sorry," he told her softly. And he really was. He'd seen the damage of her mother's death. He could only imagine what it was like to be alone in the world. Thankfully he still had his dad and Sammy.

She took in a breath. "Yeah, heart attack. No one was expecting it. After…after Mom died, it was hard, you know? I mean, your wife's killed, your daughter's crazy, people talked. We moved to another town. Once I was high-school age, I did all my schooling through a correspondence course he found. Anything practical he found me a tutor for. I…I wasn't ready to be around teenagers. I couldn't cope and they couldn't handle having a freak in their classes, so I just…faded away." She sucked in a breath. "When Dad died, it…freed me in a way. He was my crutch. Once he wasn't here to keep me tethered, I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself." She shrugged. "I went a little wild, then, I decided to make something of my life."

He had thought about her often, the girl the same age as him, whose life had been fucked over by demons. He wondered how she coped, and listening to her now, he wasn't one hundred percent sure she had. There was a hardness, a coldness to her words, like she was emotionally detached from everyone and everything. It made him sad. "That's good," Dean offered, eventually, unsure what to say.

She sighed. "Are we in for the night? I think I might shower and get comfy."

He nodded. "Yeah, Dad will call me when it's done, so you're good."

She put her hand on his arm one more time. "Thanks, Dean. Really."

He smiled. "My pleasure." He watched her get up and walk away. He blew out a breath. No, they might have saved her life that night, but he wasn't sure they did her any favors. It wasn't the first time he wondered if maybe those that had been possessed wouldn't be better off dead. They remembered, sometimes, being a demon. And if they remembered doing bad shit, then, was it really saving their lives if they had to live with the guilt? The despair of knowing you'd done some terrible things? Could you ever forgive yourself enough for that?

He stood and glanced around. She had a clean space, neat, everything in its place, but not in an OCD kind of way, so that was…healthy, he guessed. There was a picture of her with her mom and dad, probably close to the age he had met her again. There was also a picture that made his heard pound harder…one of Mrs. Fawcett and Mary, with baby Ryan and baby Dean, sitting on the front porch of a house, he assumed was the Fawcett's in Lawrence, Kansas. They had huge smiles on their faces and looked so innocent and young. He turned away as his eyes burned with unshed tears. No, it might have been hard for her, but saving this connection to his mom was the right thing to have done at the time.

His eyes lit on the bookshelf and he saw a familiar book…the photo book, the one Mrs. Fawcett had shown him that day at their house. The pictures with his mom in it. He ran his fingers over the spine of it. He couldn't bring himself to look at it again, but that was okay, he had memorized each picture that day, anyway.

He decided while she was showering he could clean up their mess, so he straightened up her little kitchen, washing her dishes, putting them away. He opened her fridge and smiled as he saw the grape sodas lining the wall. He hadn't forgotten they were her favorite. He helped himself to one, then toed off his boots and sat down on the couch to flip on the boob tube.

When she emerged, his nose was assaulted by the scent of honeysuckle, and he was ashamed to admit how the fragrance affected him. He had to force himself to calm down before he embarrassed either of them. He was momentarily taken back to that time, to his first kiss, to the innocence they both had. She came around and sank next to him on the sofa as if she was carrying the weight of the world around on her shoulders and he briefly wondered if maybe she wasn't doing that very thing.

He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. She had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top. He was trying not to stare at her rack when something caught his eye and his hand snaked out in a flash. "What did you do?!" he cried as he looked at her arm.

She blinked and pulled away from him. "What?"

He grabbed her arm once more, none too gently, and flipped it over, thumbing the rope of a scar going down the length of it. An inspection of her other arm revealed the same scarring. He knew what those were. Suicide scars. She'd tried to end her life, and judging by the size of the marks, she had almost accomplished it. "What the fuck did you do?"

She shoved him away and stood. "It's none of your fucking business, Dean."

"I didn't save your life just for you to kill yourself, Ryan!" he bellowed as he also stood. He wasn't sure why the thoughts of her trying to kill herself hurt him so badly.

"It is none of your business, Dean!" she screamed again. "I'm fucked up, okay? And I have been! Ever since I was eleven! Do you think you did me any favors? Left me with memories of killing my mother? Left me with memories of what those-those things _did _to me? Monsters are real and everyone thought I was batshit crazy! I was on every single medication under the sun for _years_ before I finally had enough of it!" Her voice grew softer and he saw a tear slip down her face. "I had enough of it. The memories, the pain, the anger, the hurt, the…"

She sucked in a hiccough. "Look, I don't expect you to understand. I'm…I'm broken, Dean. I'm a disabled unit. I can't have kids. I can't even stand for a man to be near me, to…touch me even in the most innocent of ways, let alone be intimate. I thought, maybe, once…"

She paused, seeming to decide if she wanted to open up this much to him before she continued. "I got doped up, high as a kite on ecstasy and thought maybe I could…" She huffed out a breath. "He was hovering over me and I just couldn't deal." She was silent for a moment before she admitted, "I hurt him, broke his arm and three of his ribs before I'd realized it…" She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, she was staring right at him. "I'm ruined, Dean. So, I tried to end it. Sue me."

"You didn't die."

She snorted. "No, no I didn't die. I almost did. The doctors..." She shook her head. "One of the nurses said I must have a guardian angel watching over me. To which I call bullshit. If I did, none of that stuff in that barn, or what followed, would have happened. But it did. And now I'm a shell of a person, alive, but not living."

"You said you were fine…" he started.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you know what F.I.N.E. stands for, right? Fucked up. Insecure. Neurotic. And Emotional. I'd say that sums me up nicely."

They stood there, faced off, breathing hard, when his cell rang. "What?!" he shouted into it.

"Curb the attitude, Dean," his father stated angrily, causing Dean to blink. "I'm sorry you couldn't go get a piece of ass because we were saving this girl's life_._ I salted and burned the bones."

Dean winced. He'd pay for snapping at John, even if his anger wasn't directed at his father. "Did he put up a fight?"

"Eh, not too much. I'm fine. My head is harder than that ghost's wallop. Tell Ryan she should be fine. I'm going to the hotel. Can you find your own way or do I need to come pick you up?"

He should have his father come pick him up. He shouldn't _want _to stay with this angry, damaged girl, but he couldn't make himself say the words. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll…I'll find a way."

"Meaning you aren't in for the night. Fine. Just don't make me a grandfather, Dean," John warned.

Dean looked at the furious woman who was now pacing by the window. "Don't worry about it, Dad. See you later." He snapped the phone shut, and to Ryan, said, "He salted and burned the bones. You should be fine now."

"Thanks," she bit out.

He walked to her and stood, just touching her, behind her. His fingers itched to wrap themselves around her arms, her body, he couldn't help himself. She was driving him crazy. He wanted nothing more than to peek inside that mind and see how it ticked. "Look," he started softly, "I've thought about you every day since that night. I'm sorry I failed."

She spun around and slapped him in the face. "Fuck you, Dean. What those monsters did, it wasn't on you. It wasn't on your father. It was them. _They _chose to take me. _They _did those awful things. _It _chose to-to possess me. That's fine, I accept that. And you…you saved my life. I…I may not fully appreciate that fact, but one day I will. So, I'm sorry. I don't expect you to understand what it's like for me."

She turned back around to look at the inky night. "I'm terrified, but at the same time, nothing scares me. I walk alone every night, just listening to the quiet. Half the time I'm praying something _will _try to kill me, and honestly, half of me hopes it does. I want to be normal so badly, but I know I never will be. And maybe one day, that will be okay, too."

He wasn't a man comfortable with his emotions. John Winchester wasn't a hugger, so neither were his boys, but he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair, marveling at the fact she didn't tense, and instead, relaxed into him. He was incapable of stepping away now. "You lived for a reason, Ryan. Twice. Now, I don't believe in angels and fate and all that crap, but I do believe there is something out there bigger than us. And maybe, just maybe, it wants you alive for some reason. For some great purpose."

"What does it want you for?" she questioned softly.

He chuckled. "Well, to save people, to kill things that go bump in the night, to be the man every woman dreams of…"

They shared a laugh at that and she leaned into him further. "You know, this is the closest I've ever let a man near. For a while there, I couldn't even stand for my father to hug me. Why is it I'm so comfortable around you?"

He turned her then and she opened her eyes to look at him. Her eyes were like windows into her soul. That old saying was true. He could see everything in them. Hurt, anger still, confusion, and what he searched for the most; desire. It was all there for him to see. "I saved your life, Ryan. I would never hurt you. I saved you. I'll save you a million times if I need to."

She stood on tip-toe and touched her lips to his. He tightened his grip on her ever so slightly as he deepened the kiss. She whimpered and he opened his eyes to look at her, relieved when he found she was enjoying herself instead of tensing up.

He pulled away just slightly and admired her soft beauty, her slightly swollen lips, and the uncertainty warring with the longing in her eyes. "Let me show you, Ryan. I swear I won't hurt you. Let me show you how good it can be."

She took in an unsteady breath through her nose and shook her head, panic clearly setting in.

Dean removed his hands from around her and held them both up in a truce. "Look, I may not know much, but I know a little bit about a lot of things, and one thing I'm damn fine at is making women feel good. I swear I just want you to see what you're missing. I promise to make it good for you."

"Dean…"

"You can say 'no' at any time and I swear I'll stop. Hell, we can play poker all night if you want." At that, she smiled, no doubt, remembering their first night together, the innocence they'd shared. "Please? I just…I don't know, Ryan, I feel like I need to do this for you."

She swallowed hard and shook her head again.

"Please?" he implored softly. He wasn't sure why, what was compelling him, but he knew if he left here without being here for her in this aspect, he was failing. What he was failing at, he wasn't sure, but he knew it in his gut, he needed to do this for her. And it was, it was all for her. Sure, he would get off, he knew that, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to have sex for someone else, to help _her _get off, to help _her, _period. He wasn't a selfish lover, he always made sure the woman in question was just as satisfied, if not more so, than himself, but this…this was different.

"Dean…" her voice caught in her throat and he could see her arguments warring in her head. He could practically hear her racing thoughts. But, finally, after what seemed like a millennia, she nodded. "Okay."

He gave her a small smile and held out a hand for her. She took it warily and he led her into her bedroom.

He stopped at the foot of her bed. She licked her lips nervously. "N-now what?"

He smiled. "Now, you empty that pretty little head of yours and concentrate on the moment."

* * *

The sun was rising when he woke and he smiled at the small body curled into him. Sex usually brought him a high, but this…this was something else entirely. He felt like he had done something for her, and honestly? He probably had. She had been nervous, scared, but she persevered and he had touched her with a tenderness he hadn't realized he possessed.

She stirred and looked at him. He gazed into the honeyed depths as she smiled. "Good morning."

"Hey," he managed, voice gravelly from sleep. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," she responded. She bit her lip and then kissed his, tenderly. "Thank you."

He pulled her to him once and kissed her forehead, each cheek, then finally, her mouth. "Thank you for letting me, for being strong enough for me to show you how good it could be."

She giggled and threw herself onto her back, stretching like a cat. "I'm pretty damn sure it's you I should be thanking. My God…you're a professional, Dean. I'm fairly certain you could get a masters degree in sex."

He chuckled shyly as he turned over to face her. This woman was incredible. Sure, she was damaged, but, hell, so was he. "Yeah, well…" Suddenly, a mischievous grin lit his features. "If you think I'm good at that, you should see what I can do with my tongue."

She whimpered, causing his grin to grow. Oh, the things he would enjoy doing to her…the sex last night had been mind blowing; not wild, but passionate. Today could be just fun.

He moved over her but then he caught a glimpse at the clock and winced. _Shit. How can it be so early, yet so damn late? _

She sighed and smiled. "You've got to go."

He hung his head and his forehead touched hers. He would love nothing more than to spend the day with her, show her everything, touch her in ways she'd never dreamed. But…John would want to move on, he was sure. As his dad said, 'Monsters don't take vacations, son. Neither do we.' Sometimes he hated their job. "Yeah, Dad'll be up soon and probably ready to go since your spook is gone."

She nodded in understanding. "Okay."

Still, he didn't move from her as their eyes met. "I, uh, probably ought to call Dad…let him know to come get me."

She smirked, just a little.

"Look, it's not, like, the walk of shame or anything."

Her smirk grew.

He cleared his throat.

She laughed and kissed his lips. "Would you like to borrow my phone?"

"No. I'll, uh, I'll call him." He paused, uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why. But he knew one thing…he didn't want to leave. He cleared his throat again and asked, "Mind if I use your shower?"

She shook her head. "Be my guest."

He moved, willing his erection down, before he stood and strode clad in his underwear to gather his clothes before hitting the bathroom. When she fell asleep, he had made sure to put something on, just in case she woke up and freaked, but to his surprise, they had both slept peacefully the whole night. He turned the water on and pulled his phone out of his pants pocket.

The phone rang twice and his dad's gruff voice answered.

"You want me to meet you somewhere?" Dean asked quickly.

"Where are you?"

He didn't want to admit he'd been with Ryan. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he didn't want his dad thinking Ryan was some two-bit tramp like most of the women he banged and left. "Near Ryan's place," he said finally.

Dean heard John's exasperated breath. "Looks like the least your bedmate could do was bring you over here."

"I'll walk, sir, if you tell me where you are."

He could almost see the set to John's jaw. "No, it's fine. Just start walking and I'll find you."

"Just let me shower, give me fifteen minutes? Then I'll find you, Dad."

His father hung up on him and he sighed. He didn't regret last night though. It meant more to him than he could have realized, being there with her, _for _her, like that.

He tested the water, then jumped in, showering in record time, half irritated he had to use her flowery shampoo, yet, not really minding the fact he smelled like her. He emerged to find her dressed in her pajamas once more, sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs with her head on her knees.

He picked up his shirts and felt her eyes on him as he slipped them on. "So…" he began.

"So…" she started at the same time. They both laughed. She uncurled herself and stood. "Look, Dean, thanks. For everything."

Man, he didn't know what it was about this girl…but he didn't want to leave her. He really didn't. "You gonna be okay?"

She took in a deep breath, blew it out, and smiled. "Yeah, I think I might be. Won't be long and I'll be graduating, then off into the real world. Whatever that means."

He laughed. "Well, good. You're smart. Stay smart. And stay away from things that go bump in the night."

She snorted and shook her head. "I'll try." She was fiddling with a piece of paper and he watched as she seemed to make up her mind and handed it to him. "Here's my number. Just…if you ever need a friend, Dean, call me, kay?"

He took the paper from her and nodded. "Yeah. I will." He snagged a sticky note off her desk and wrote down his own. "Here's mine. You ever think about ending it again, you call me, understand?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good." He leaned over and kissed her lips once more. "I'll see you around, shortcake."

She smiled. "Sounds good, Winchester."

He turned and walked out, back to his life, with the hopes she would call him the next time she got low.

* * *

**AN2: So...hope you enjoyed! For those of you who wanted the sexytimes, not to worry! I've got this experience from Ryan's point of view I'll show when the time is right. **


	4. Born on the Bayou

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Wish I did...**

**Triggers: Brief mentions of suicide attempts/self harm scars. **

**Song for this chapter: Born on the Bayou by Creedence Clearwater Revival**

**Author's Note: Whoot! Five reviews and nine follows! Thanks, everyone! Glad you're enjoying it. Sorry I didn't update last week. My grandmother's health took a turn for the worst and she passed away. It was twelve long, excruciating days of...yeah, well, anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope you're ready for that M rating. If smut isn't your thing, you need to just hit that little old "back" button at the top there. **

* * *

FIVE YEARS LATER… (Pre-show)

John stepped into the motel room and handed Dean a manila folder. "Got a tip there's some hoodoo going on down in New Orleans."

Dean looked at the folder and grinned. Mardi Gras was starting in a few days. "Sweet."

John sighed. "I've got a lead I need to check into in Salt Lake City."

Dean sat up straighter. Anytime John said 'lead' and he got that look in his eye, it usually meant a lead on the demon, the thing that killed Mary. "Dad, do you want me to come with…?"

"I want you to go to New Orleans."

"Alone?"

John gave him a half grin. "You can handle some witches, can't you, son?"

If anyone else had asked him that, Dean would have been insulted. "Absolutely. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

John shook his head. "It is probably a dead end, but I need to look into this. Don't worry, I know you want your vengeance on the damn thing as much as I do…"

Dean did, but not necessarily for the same reasons as his father. Sure, he wanted revenge on the thing for stealing his mother away from him, but he wanted revenge for what it had turned his father into even more. Sammy never knew their dad from before the fire, but Dean did. Dean remembered his dad smiling, remembered his dad laughing, remembered his dad as a normal father, not a drill sergeant that shared blood with them. Dean followed him, he toed the line exactly as he should, being a good soldier, realizing his father knew more about what they hunted than he did, but he just wanted it over. If they ever managed to kill the thing, maybe his dad would take a break. Maybe John and Sammy would make up and they could be a _real _family again. He missed his brother like crazy, but he knew his place was with their dad. It had killed him to have to make the choice between their father and Sam, but he knew Sam would be fine on his own. Sometimes, he wasn't quite so sure about his dad…

"Dean."

Dean blinked, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Yes sir?"

"Be careful. Mardi Gras is starting. You don't need to get caught doing something stupid and you don't need to get caught by these witches. Word is they're heavy hitters. I'm trusting you can handle this, Dean. I don't want you getting hurt."

Dean smiled. "I'll be fine, Dad. You're the one that trained me, remember?"

John gave him that ghost of a smile again. Dean would have loved to hear some words of encouragement, something, but he'd long since given up listening for it, so he just went over to his duffle and started packing his bags. His dad had handed him over the keys to the Impala just a few short years ago, buying a supped up truck to drive in place of the car. Dean never had been able to figure out why John had handed it over to him, but he had taken the car with barely bridled glee. The Impala was Dean's baby and he all but worshiped her.

He finished grabbing his gear and held out his hand for a handshake with his dad before he walked out.

* * *

He drove until things started to get blurry and he parked Baby off on a side road. It wasn't the first time he'd slept in the car, and he was more eager to start the case than he was to get a bed to sleep on. The next morning, he grabbed some takeout along with a giant coffee and once more pulled off onto a side road to read over all the information his dad had given him.

Someone had been hurting tourists, petty stuff in the beginning, but it was accelerating to bodily injuries and death. Originally it had been something akin to identity theft; bank accounts emptied, stocks and bonds sold, nothing that sounded hooey in the least…but then it had begun getting worse. Those people were getting hurt; little things at first, also. Someone's hair falling out, someone waking up covered in boils, but it was the death that had caught his father's attention. All her skin had fallen off her body. As her sister watched. "Nasty fucking witches," Dean said aloud to Baby. "They leave bodily fluids everywhere."

The car didn't answer him, naturally, but he was comforted by the silence. He had become used to it, since Sam left. Usually his brother gabbed incessantly, even when no one wanted to hear anything. It had been a hard adjustment, but now he was reveling in it. He liked being alone, some of the time. He liked being away from his father, that much was true. He loved his dad, but occasionally, John's brusque mannerisms made it hard to live with the man. Dean longed to just tell his father to "fuck off" on occasion, but he held his tongue. His dad had one rebellious son. He didn't need another.

With a sigh that turned into a yawn, Dean downed the rest of the coffee and put all of his trash in the takeout bag to throw away later. He always had takeout containers, bags, and wrappers in Baby, but he made sure he kept up with them and threw them away. She wasn't going to become a pigsty, no matter how many hours they were on the road.

He pushed off the hood, where he had been sitting, and stood, stretching a bit before popping his neck this way and that to work out a kink before he gathered the folder and his trash bag. He slid in behind the steering wheel and sat both items on the passenger seat before he grabbed his meager cassette collection. He briefly considered each tape before grinning and popping in some CCR. "Born on the Bayou" started and his grin grew. Because, hell, if he was going to go down to New Orleans and deal with some hoodoo, he needed the right music.

* * *

Two days later, Dean blew out an exhausted breath as he stared at the wall of information tacked up in his hotel room. He'd had zero luck finding these stupid ass witches. He'd already interviewed the witnesses and living victims and was still no closer to figuring out who these sons of bitches were. Plus, there had been another death. He was getting pissed, that much was for sure.

He looked over his information one more time and sighed. He had confirmed there were four members of this coven, three men and one woman. No, he didn't have names, but he was close. From what he could tell, they lured their victims to a storefront just outside the French Quarter, choosing victims that were drunk, or almost there, enticing them with promises of magic or fortune telling. He suspected some form of hypnosis was involved, too.

He scrubbed his hand over his face before he went to splash some cold water on it to revive himself. It was getting late, but he wanted to check out some of the storefronts. That information had been new today and he had excitedly come back to ditch the nicer clothes he had chosen to wear as the "reporter" he had pretended to be to get his information.

He grabbed his gear and quickly headed out to the car. He had looked and found a few abandoned places just outside The French Quarter that fit the needs for the coven. He figured they probably had an additional warehouse to manufacture their spellwork, but that didn't mean they actually did. He, personally, would want to keep the two sides of the game separate if he were them, but not everyone thought like he did. And if they were small-timers, even with major power, they wouldn't be smart with covering their tracks. But, damn, were they good. He hated it. He just wanted to kill their asses or make them see reason. He let out a snort. Who was he kidding? They wouldn't see reason. Most monsters (and he considered witches monsters) didn't.

He drove down a side street and did a double-take as a flash of black went the opposite direction. He blinked twice and swiped his fingers across his eyes. It had looked like Ryan's black Ford Falcon. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? What would she be doing in New Orleans? He let out a snort. _Get it together, Dean. She's not here. _But he wished she was.

It had been a long few years since he'd seen her last. He and his dad had killed monsters, had put spirits to rest, and had traveled a lot. Sure, he'd had a lot of women since Ryan. Lisa, the yoga instructor who'd been too damn bendy, _almost _for him, but he'd learned a lot about himself in that wild weekend spent in her loft apartment. She'd taught him some stretches he was ashamed to admit he had used multiple times for more than just sex since. Yoga definitely had its merits. But it was Cassie that caused his heart to ache. He'd thought they had a chance. He really, _really _liked her. He'd made the biggest mistake of his life, admitting what their family business was. She's looked at him like he was worth less than the dirt on her shoe. She'd broken his heart and it had hardened a bit since then. He was becoming more like his father every day and that scared him. He didn't want to be a cold, unfeeling, obsessed bastard, but he had the feeling that was the way he was headed. And honestly, in this line of work, it was probably for the best. Sam had a future. Dean didn't. Not anymore.

_Wow, way to get yourself down, Winchester, _he mused as he pulled up to the building. _Stow your crap, you're on a job. _He sat up a bit straighter and was on high alert as he began searching for signs of the witches. He found nothing in the first storefront. The second one proved fruitless, also. But at the third, he saw a shiny Mercedes Benz parked.

"Know who drives those kinds of cars and hangs out down in abandoned buildings?" Dean mused to himself, "Drug dealers and witches."

He pulled his gun and slipped into the slightly open door. He saw a table with a plethora of "magic crap" along with some hooey stuff too. It was mostly fake, that much he could tell. The crystal ball wasn't a real one, neither were the cheap looking Tarot cards, but to the average Joe, they would look real enough, he supposed.

His eyes lit on a small table at the back of the room and he smirked. Here was where the real magic happened. It looked like an altar of some sorts with bones, ornate bowls, and lots of other weird shit he didn't even like thinking about. "What is your end game?" he mused softly.

He heard a noise behind him and turned, but he was surprised to feel the blow to his head, knocking him out cold.

* * *

Dean regained consciousness to the sounds of two men arguing about what to do with him. Well, at least they didn't kill him while he was down for the count. He glanced around and found himself in a dark, dank, obviously abandoned warehouse. So, he had been right in his assumptions that they had another building. Not that it did him a damn bit of good.

He began tugging on the ropes. He was usually pretty good about getting out of tight spots, but these two must have been Boy Scouts once upon a time because the knots were tight as fuck.

He tried the ropes again and growled. God, if he got out of this alive, his dad was going to murder him. Maybe it would be easier to let the fucking witches do him in. It would probably be more merciful. One of his few cases by himself, and he'd fucked up. _Why _hadn't he been more careful? He'd made a rookie mistake. Fuck. He twisted this way and that, trying to maneuver. If only he could get the knife stashed in his back pocket…

"Shhhh," he heard from behind him. "Don't move," the soft, southern accent implored.

He tried to twist his neck to see who the owner of the female voice was, but he couldn't. It was almost pitch-black in the decrepit warehouse. He felt the cool metal sliding against his skin as a knife cut the ropes away.

He stood quickly and rounded on his rescuer. "Ryan?!"

"Shhh, damn it, Dean! They'll hear you!" she whisper-yelled.

"Too late," a voice sing-songed. "And now we get two for the price of one. Shame, you had to have your girlfriend save your life, only for me to end it."

"Shame the hex bag didn't work," the other one stated in a nasally voice and Dean wondered what he was talking about. "You should be fucking dead, _huntress_," he growled.

Ryan glared at the weasel looking one. "No thanks to you, I almost was. Luckily, you're a sloppy ass witch and did a shitty job of hiding the hex bag in the first place. Under my bed? Really? Try for some originality next time! Hide it in the bathroom vent or the a/c ducts or something. It's almost like you _wanted _me to find it."

What the fuck was he missing? "Ryan," Dean warned. "Not helping!" he hissed.

She just looked at him and she smiled that beautiful, brilliant smile of hers. Damn, was he glad to see her. He hadn't realized it until right this very moment how happy he was to see her beautiful face.

Dean tried to lighten the situation and grinned at the two witches. "Hey, come on, guys, it's a party, right? Fucking Mardi Gras is going on! Let's just go out, get drunk, have Ryan get us some beads, have a few laughs, it'll be fun."

She just glared at him. "The only person seeing my tits tonight is you, and there's no guarantees about that, Winchester," she growled.

Please. Dean Winchester always closed the deal. "Oh, come on, babe, seriously? Five years? And you don't want this?" he gestured up and down his body. "I'm awesome."

She rolled her eyes. "You're also egotistical and a shitty hunter to let these two losers get the drop on you."

He shrugged. Okay, she had a point…"Not my finest hour, granted, but, hey, give me a handicap."

"Why should I?" she teased.

"Enough!" the one witch shouted as his eyes narrowed and he lunged just as Ryan moved, catching him with her waiting knife. He howled in pain and Dean's eyes grew wide as he watched Ryan flip the man over and stab him in the heart, killing him.

So intent was he watching Ryan, he didn't notice the other coming up on Ryan until he'd knocked her down, forcing her breath from her before attacking Dean.

The fight was on. They traded punches before he got the better of Dean and tossed him into the wall. It dazed him for just a moment before he shook his head, blinked, and narrowed his eyes as he growled and he rushed the other man, knocking him back into a steel girder. They continued their fight for a few more moments before Dean had him in a headlock.

Ryan called out, "Dean! Catch!" and threw her knife at him. He caught it and deftly slit the man's throat.

She stood and spat. "God help me, but I hate witches. Nasty pieces of work." She looked up at Dean. "Don't suppose you know where the rest of the coven is, do you? I mean, I'm enjoying the hell out of New Orleans, but before pleasure commences, I'd like to TCB, ya know?"

He blinked and his brows furrowed as he followed her outside. "Wait, wait a damn minute, Ryan. What do you think you're doing?" He waited for her stop, and when she didn't, he continued after her, enjoying the view of her sexy ass in a pair of tight blue jeans. She was dressed like a hunter, too. Sturdy hiking boots, the blue jeans that cupped that ass and flowed down her long, gorgeous legs, a couple of shirts to protect herself and hopefully stave off knife attacks, claws, and God knew what else. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

He followed her to her car, the same black Ford Falcon from when he'd seen at her college, so, it must have been her he'd seen earlier after all, and watched as she snapped open the trunk, which had an arsenal similar to his, took out a towel, and held out a hand for the knife he still held. He watched her as she lovingly wiped down the blade. She was stunning, even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, five years before. Her mahogany hair hung in soft curls down her back where it had spilled out of some clip that was just barely hanging on and her whiskey colored eyes sparkled with mischief and irritation as she continued speaking.

"Following a lead," she stated as she stowed the knife back in her holster on her side and wasn't that the sexiest fucking thing he'd ever seen? "I heard through the grapevine that some serious hoodoo was going on down here, stuff out of the ordinary." She motioned to the abandoned warehouse before she began twisting her hair back up into the clip. He mourned its loss. He loved seeing all those riotous curls. "One of those sons of bitches put a hex bag in my hotel room. I took it real personal. I saw the one dude hit you over the head and drag you to a car. So, I followed him, then saw those two drag you in there." She smiled. "Lucky thing I came along, Dean. Where's your dad?"

His back went up at the glaring accusation that he couldn't hunt by himself. "He's on another job, and I was doing fine on my own, damn it!"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, if that's what you want to tell yourself." She paused, then said, "Look, I know for a fact the coven has another man and a woman in it. Word is they're small timers, but they've got serious juice. I haven't found a connection to a demon yet, have you?"

He shook his head, his brain going into hunt and research mode. "No. I checked. They're flying solo, but they're screwing over travelers that want to come down here and see some magic in action. Dumb tourists."

She let out a snort. "I guess you need a ride back to your car, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

She slammed the trunk shut and made her way to the driver's side. "You coming?"

He slid into the passenger seat and she cranked the engine. She flipped the radio back on just as "New Kid in Town" went off and "Life in the Fast Lane" began blaring from the speakers. He smiled when he noticed her singing along with song under her breath, her hand tapping the steering wheel in time to the music. He watched her a moment, enjoying the first verse of the song. He actually _liked _The Eagles, but he couldn't help but rag her a bit. "The Eagles? Seriously?"

She shot him a look. "It could be worse. I was listening to Restless Heart yesterday." At his grimace, she laughed. "The Eagles were my daddy's favorite band." The Eagles were one thing, Restless Heart? A whole other thing entirely. Next, she'd be telling him she liked The Beach Boys.

She reached in the backseat and pulled out a small duffle bag. "Here are more cassettes. Pick one."

"You'll let me choose?" he asked, incredulous. Shotgun never got to pick in his ride.

She laughed. "I never have anyone riding with me. Go ahead."

He dug around through the pile of cassettes. He saw some of his own favorites and finally decided on Def Leopard. "Looks like Restless Heart and The Eagles not withstanding, you've got a decent collection."

She rolled her eyes and grinned.

The ride was silent save for the music and the road until he finally asked, "Ryan, what happened?"

She gave him a sidelong glance before looking back at the road. "When?"

"You were in school. You weren't in this life…"

She sighed and turned the music down. "Dean, you're like me…your life was ruined from a young age. And when that happens, all you can do is persevere, you know? I graduated. Got top honors, too. But I wasn't happy. And, after promising you I wouldn't, well, end things, I knew I had to do something. Then, I found a vengeful spirit outside of Charlotte and it felt so good to be able to do _something._ So, I started looking for it. I met up with Bobby Singer and he kinda showed me some of the ropes. He looked at me like you're looking at me now; with pity, but I didn't care. I needed to do it. I needed to be taking out these monsters."

She paused for a breath. "I used the Tae Kwon Do I'd learned as a teenager for self defense, altered it, made my own kind of fighting style. I've excised a handful of demons, handled a haunting outside of Charleston, and took out a werewolf in Biloxi. Bobby helped me with my first witch coven. For the first time in my life, I'm…well, I wouldn't say happy, but content. I'm doing something so other monsters can't do to anyone else what was done to me."

"I get it," he said finally. "I totally get it. I just…I hate it for you. I feel like sometimes if we could have predicted they'd take you…"

"I fit the profile," she stated flatly. "I fit the profile, but that was it. There were twenty other girls in my hometown that could have been taken, but it was me. You gotta let go of the guilt, Dean. I don't blame you or your dad. I never did."

"You blamed me for saving your life." It had bothered him, more than he cared to admit.

She huffed out a soft breath. "Yeah, I did. But not anymore. Because of you, the world has another hunter. This isn't a bad thing."

He was quiet for a moment, before he asked, "So, you're hunting. You don't usually have passengers…No partner?"

She smirked. "If this is your shitty way of asking do I have a boyfriend, the answer is 'no.'"

He held up both his hands. "Hey, just curious."

"I've hunted with a few people," she said finally. "Bobby, of course, a new kid, Mark Campbell, who was really nice, Caleb…"

"You've hunted with Caleb?" he asked, his tone surprised. Caleb was a lone ranger. He didn't work with many people. His dad had taken him under his wing, got him started off with a handful of weapons, but Caleb was more of a loose canon than he was, and that said something.

"Yeah, we worked a case together a few months ago…"

Dean grinned. "Haven't seen him in forever."

She shrugged and remained silent until they pulled up to the Impala. He briefly wondered if anything had happened between her and Caleb. Caleb was a decent guy, rough around the edges, but, hey, that happened to them all, he was a good guy, though.

"Your dad gave it to you?" she asked as they both got out of her car.

He grinned, all thoughts of anything but his baby forgotten. "Yeah, Baby's all mine."

She smiled as he enthused over the car. He led the way to the Impala and leaned against the driver's door.

"I know the feeling," she told him. "I was so excited to have Papa's Falcon, even though I put a ton of work into it."

"You do the work yourself?" He'd never gotten around to asking her that night. It was just one of many things he wished they had talked about.

She shook her head. "No, not all of it. I had it fixed up for college. Last year it started sounding funny. Bobby, he, uh, he took me and Demon home, gave her a once-over, got me road ready, gave me a crash course on car maintenance, the whole nine."

He glanced back at her car. "Demon?"

She smirked. "It seemed appropriate."

"You've got a twisted sense of humor, Ryan."

She laughed again. "Ain't the first time I've heard that one, Dean," she said, and he heard that North Carolina accent slip into her words. It warmed him for some reason.

"So, how did you manage to talk Daddy Winchester into letting go of this beauty?" she asked as she ran a hand down Baby's front quarter panel. Dean had to suck in a breath in order to control his raging hard-on. Fuck, he'd love to bend her over Baby's hood. Shit, the things he would do to her on top of that car…God help him. He cleared his throat. "Dad's got Truckzilla now, so Baby and I are just doing our thing."

"Truckzilla?"

He snorted. "Sam's name for it."

She paused and smiled softly. "I haven't seen him since he was a kid. How is Sam doing?"

He thought of the best way to describe Sam while not digging up all their family shit. He supported his brother fully in his need for higher education, didn't understand it, but supported him, no matter what. That was his job. To look after his pain in the ass little brother. And that included supporting his decision for college. He still remembered the fight between his dad and Sam. It was one of the worst they'd ever had that had led to Sam slamming the door and walking out on them both. Dean had hated the fact he had to choose sides, but his dad needed him. Sam…for once in his life, Sam didn't need a damn thing. He was fine off at school, a real grown up with normal written all over him. It sometimes made Dean jealous of the kid. "Sam's good. He's in college."

"Wow! Awesome!"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm really happy for him. Haven't talked to him lately, though," he added quickly. She didn't know _how _long it had been, but yet again, he wasn't going to share family shit. "Been doing my own thing for a few months now," _when dad will let me, _he amended mentally. She didn't need to know that one, either.

"That's good." She smiled. "Sort of like me."

He nodded uncertainly. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He remembered their night together like it was yesterday. He'd had a lot of women since her, but she stayed with him. He could only say that about a handful of girls. She was memorable, that much was for sure.

"So," she began as she clapped her hands together. "We gonna hunt down these witches together?"

He thought a moment. "Why the hell not? If you're good enough for Bobby to tutor, you're good enough for me."

Her lips quirked. "Bobby mentioned he knew and I quote, 'those damn Winchesters'."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, well, there's no love lost between my dad and Uncle Bobby."

"He's awesome, but, knowing your dad a little bit, I can understand how he could…rub someone the wrong way."

"He's brusque, I'll give you that," Dean replied.

Her hand went to his arm. "I'm glad you aren't. Always stay like you are, Dean."

"What? I'm a macho, gruff, mean bastard, Ryan."

Her smile was soft as she leaned over until she was right in his face. She was stunning. Five years had given her some maturity in her eyes, she'd obviously seen some of the weird shit he had, but it had brought her to life instead of killing her. He saw sparkles of mischief in their brown depths and he found himself spellbound.

"That's not true." Her soft breath fanned across his face and he felt a stirring below the belt yet again and was thankful he'd worn a tighter pair of jeans. No sense embarrassing himself now, was there? He looked her over yet again. She had put her hair back up in a sloppy bun clip thing and his fingers itched to run through the curls he had gotten a glimpse of earlier. He knew they were hiding there. He longed to pull her hair back to open her neck for him to kiss on. Damn, did she have a pretty neck…

"I seem to remember you being quite gentle, Dean," she purred. "You gave me a gift that night. I think it's time I returned the favor."

_Fuuuuuck_, he thought. He swallowed hard and grinned. "Well, hell, let's gank some witchy bitches and I'll let you do that very thing."

She smirked and pulled away. "Well, we've got a few hours until daylight. Call it or go get breakfast?"

He grinned at her and they chorused, "Breakfast."

* * *

She followed him as he led her to his motel. It had a little diner attached to it. Luckily they were an all-night kind of place and they slid into a booth before the sun was even a glimmer in the eastern sky.

The waitress came and took their order. "I'll take the special, extra pig, and one of those cinnamon roll looking things. Looks great," Dean told her with a smile. "Oh, and a coffee and O.J. too."

Ryan grinned as the waitress turned to her. "Country Ham, egg, and cheese sandwich on white toast, extra mayo, side of hash browns, apple juice _with ice_, please, coffee, water, and I guess count me in for one of those cinnamon roll thingies."

The waitress didn't comment as she shuffled off. "Well, she's got…personality," Ryan commented as she sat back in the booth and drew one leg up to rest her head on her knee.

Dean snorted and yawned. "Yeah, I guess she's used to people coming in at all hours of the night."

Ryan shrugged. "It could be worse. At least we aren't covered in blood."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Guess we're getting good at not getting any on us."

Ryan laughed. "You say that, but then there's the mess at my hotel room I have yet to clean up."

"What happened? You mentioned a hex bag?"

She nodded as the waitress came back and sat their drinks down. She sipped her water until the lady left. "Yeah, I guess I got too close and they made me. Must have been that last vic I was talking to. Poor guy."

Dean's eyebrow rose. "Poor guy nothing. You screw with magic, that's the price you pay."

"So, they should die? They should be hurt?" she asked, incredulous.

"You don't fuck with things like this, especially if you're a civilian."

"They didn't know any better."

"Isn't that the problem?" Dean asked with a sigh. "They don't know any better, so they end up screwing with their lives."

They were both quiet for a moment and Dean watched as she put three creams and two sugars in her coffee, basically making it sweetened coffee flavored milk and he had to hold in a grin as he sipped his own black coffee. "So…the hex bag?" Dean prompted when she finished.

Ryan shrugged and shook her head as she held the warm mug in both hands. She closed her eyes and took an appreciative breath of the warm beverage. "Ahhh, I love the smell of coffee in the morning. I rarely drink it any later in the day. It's a morning beverage, unless I'm burning the midnight oil."

He watched her take a sip, still with her eyes closed. He longed to have her sighing for another reason. Usually he had no problems keeping his libido in check, especially if they were on a job. Now, he was jonesing to take her back to his room and fuck her senseless before they even began their hunt.

Those gorgeous brown eyes opened slowly and she smiled as they hit his own. "Sorry…I think I might have dozed off for a moment."

"You need to go get some rest," he stated.

She shrugged. "Maybe. Let's see if this coffee and the huge breakfast makes any headway with my fatigue." She took a sip and sat the mug down. "Now, you'd asked about the hex bag."

He nodded and she began her tale; "I had gone back to the room to do a bit more research. After a while, I was tired and decided to go take a soothing bath, call it a night. I called in some Chinese food and decided to relax. I don't know how long I was in the tub…not long, the water hadn't cooled much, when I suddenly felt sick." She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. I hate to vomit. Anyway, I was…violently ill and couldn't figure out why. I mean, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, so I knew it wasn't food poisoning, and then, well, it wasn't exactly _vomit _that I was vomiting, if you catch my drift…"

He did. He'd been the victim of a hex bag a few years before and it felt like your whole insides were liquefied and basically, that's what the witch probably tried to do.

"So, I managed to find it, hidden under my bed, how ridiculous, right?" she chuckled. "And then I lit it on fire. Burned up one of my best lighters, too. The Chinese food came like, a minute later, but I didn't get to eat. I was still feeling sick. So now," she tacked on as the waitress reappeared with the food, "I'm starving."

He smiled. He was hungry, too. For food, and for Ryan.

They ate in relative silence then, just making small talk as they devoured their food. He enjoyed watching her eat. She must have been starving because she ate every bit of her food and asked for a bite of his pancakes, which he willingly gave. She moaned as she put the bite in her mouth. "My God, these are the best pancakes on the planet."

He shook his head. "Nah, I've had better."

Her eyebrow rose. "Where?"

So, he went into detail telling her about the little diner outside of Branson, Missouri he had stopped at after killing a pair of Vetala.

"Vetala?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, nasty creatures, stab them in the heart with a silver knife and you're good."

She smiled and her hand dipped down to the blade of the knife she used earlier. "Pure silver. Cost me a fortune from a chick that's in the biz. She doesn't hunt, but she knows a metric fuckton about the Supernatural."

"Glad to know you're being safe," he commented. "I still hate you're in this life, Ryan. You had a shot at normal."

She let out a snort. "Please. My shot at normal ended when I was eleven. I'm not bitter about it, Dean. If I had stayed in normal, I would be dead by now."

"You could have called me," he offered softly. Granted, he'd been too busy to call her, hadn't given her a lot of thought, to be honest, but still…

She blew out a breath. "Dean, I…I knew you were busy with your own stuff. You didn't need me tagging along and you didn't need to feel like you were….I dunno, responsible for me or something. I needed to go out and find my own way." She smiled. "Besides, when you were there last, it seemed as though you and your dad were a team."

He shrugged noncommittally. They weren't a team, they never were. He was the grunt, his dad was the brains. That was okay. He knew he wasn't as smart as his dad or Sam. He could handle that. But now, being out on his own some…he felt free. Free to screw up and it hurt no one but himself. Free to do things his way. And, yeah, he stuck to his dad's teachings, but he'd figured out so many better ways to do things already. Little things, but differences, none the less. "Well, we aren't a team now. I meet up with him when he calls me. We just finished a job, as a matter of fact. But I'm out on my own more and more now."

"It's freeing, isn't it?" she questioned softly.

"You have no idea," he told her.

The silence continued for a beat and Ryan looked out the window. "Looks like it's morning."

He hadn't even noticed the restaurant lightening up but now he looked out the window and saw the sun beginning to blaze through the trees. "Huh. Go figure."

She smiled. "Well, I'm full and awake."

"Me too. Wanna ditch your car here and we can take mine, go together?"

She nodded with the smile still in place. "Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

The other two witches weren't quite as into the witch life as the two Ryan and Dean had already disposed of and were quite happy to give up the life in order to live. With a powerful spellbook and a few hex bags to go, Dean and Ryan made their way back to the motel as the sun now burned bright overhead. "Well, that was anticlimactic," she mused from her spot in his passenger seat.

Dean let out a snort as he stood once they reached the motel. "Victory is victory. And those two are heading to jail for a while anyway for hurting those tourists. They're lucky we didn't gank 'em on principle."

She walked around the car and shrugged as they traveled together to the door marked by the number eight, his room. "Eh, wasn't worth it. Without the coven leader, they were just playing at being witches." She turned and grabbed his jacket, pulling him to her. "And now, I wanna play doctor."

He growled and grabbed her ass, hauling her to him as his mouth sank to hers. He attacked it and she willingly let him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. She pulled away and he grinned. "So help me, if we don't get in that room, I'm going to have you on Baby's hood.

"Not that I wouldn't like that, Dean, but I have something else in mind." She turned and having grabbed his key from his pocket while they were making out, deftly unlocked the door as his lips roamed her neck.

He reached up to her hair, unable to contain himself any longer and pulled the pins, satisfied when her hair fell down her back. _Fucking gorgeous,_ he mused as his right hand went up her back and into her tresses. He tugged gently, pulling her head back, just like he had dreamed of a few hours earlier and he breathed, "Honeysuckle. You always smell like honeysuckle to me, Ryan."

She gasped and dropped the key as they stumbled into the room. "You-you're gonna turn the tide, Winchester. I was, ungh, supposed to repay you."

He nipped at her neck lightly and purred in her ear, "Oh, don't worry. I'm gonna get lots of repayment, sweetheart."

"F-f-fuck," she stuttered as he bent down to sweep her off her feet. He kicked the door shut behind them, then carried her to the bed and dropped her lightly before his body covered hers. "Have you gotten a lot of practice since we were together last?" he asked as his lips moved to her collarbone and began undoing the buttons on her shirt.

"N-no, but Casa Erotica has helped me with my schooling."

He grinned. "Always a favorite." He stood and peeled off his jacket, toed out of his boots, and slid off his flannel shirt, leaving him in jeans and a tee. She was eyeing him hungrily and he was all smiles as he delved back to her. "You are beautiful, Ryan," he whispered as he bit her nipple through her shirt.

"Don't, ah, don't need to give me flowery talk, Dean. I'm a sure thing."

He pulled away and narrowed his eyes. "No, I don't do flowery talk. This ain't a chick flick, Ryan. If I say something during sex, I mean it, kay?"

She bit her lip, smiled softly, and whispered, "Okay."

"Now," he murmured as his hand traveled up her sides, bringing her tank with it, "I want to see all of you." He pulled her to a sitting position and divested of her shirts and bra, leaving her in only her jeans and boots. "Whoa…" she had gotten tattooed since he had seen her last. The two thick ropes of scars on her arms were still on display, but on her left arm, she had tattooed in gorgeous font; "Carry On My Wayward Son" and on her right arm, above and below the scar it read "There'll Be Peace When You Are Done." He blinked. "Kansas?"

She smiled. "I told you I love rock music. I, uh, I got them because of you, Dean. You told me to not give up, and I didn't. I got these to remember that."

His smile was soft as he laved both the tattoos and scars with attention. "Gorgeous."

She started to cover her naked breasts and he shook his head. "No. I said I want to see you. All of you. You're not going shy on me now, are you? I seem to remember you getting yourself off in front of me to the tune of 'Black Velvet'. Sexiest fucking thing I've ever watched to be honest."

He dipped to kiss her lips once more. "And I get a damned hard-on every time I hear that fucking song, all because of you. I hope you're happy with yourself."

He watched the delicious blush cross her features, but then a smirk graced her lips. "That's hot," she murmured.

Damn right it was. He'd often reflected on their first time together. He couldn't help it. When he was feeling selfish, he remembered that one selfless act. Of course, he'd gotten something out of it, but it had been for her, in the beginning, certainly.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, watching her. They'd began by getting her to relax. He remembered her closing her eyes and getting herself started with that little fingertip vibrator, teasing her own clit with it, forgetting he existed as she took herself to the edge before he jumped in, helping her finish with just a thrust of fingers. As long as he lived, he would never forget what happened next, looking up at her as she took them to the next level, watching her open up and take him in as she found her own sexuality.

Yeah, it kinda made him feel like a girl, but that was the only way he could describe it. He saw her rebirth in that instant as she became a sexual being. He had done that. He was the one that helped her with that. No one else. Him. And that was something he carried with him. And hell yes, he felt pride at it. He couldn't help himself.

He looked at the woman again now as her blush continued to brighten her features. He stood once more and took her in. She had the scar, low on her stomach, from his knife, and from the surgery that saved her life standing out against the toned muscles of her abdomen. She had a few new ones, too, he noticed, silvery pink skin that showed where blades or claws had attacked her. Warrior's tattoos, he mused, and he found them to be sexy as hell.

He smiled as he slowly untied and removed each of her boots, gently peeled away each sock, then moved to her waist, torturing her by slowly unbuttoning each button on her jeans. "I never understood why the fly on women's jeans are all buttons, but I like it."

She panted out a breath. "Some men's jeans have button flies…"

"Metrosexual crap that it is. Just give me a pair of plain jeans, I'm fine."

She smirked. "You'd look pretty damn good, Winchester, like a male model."

He chortled and slid the jeans down her legs, leaving her in nothing but a pair of purple satin panties. Her legs weren't immune to the scars, either. She had a nasty looking scar on her right thigh, partially covering the silvered skin of scars she had given herself. He hadn't asked, but he knew, even when they were together last time, he realized what the scars were. They weren't just from what those demons did to her that night. She had punished herself somehow, had cut herself to make herself feel. Depression wasn't something he knew much about, but he could easily see its marks on her skin. He was relieved, however, to find she didn't have any new ones. All the scars on her legs from her razor's edge were old and long since healed. He could only hope her mind was as healed as her body was. "Purple's a good color on you," he mused, taking his mind away from all the ways she had hurt herself. "It looks perfect with your skin."

She snorted. "Careful, Dean, you're entering chick flick territory."

He shot her a look and dipped to her once more, taking a nipple in his mouth. He wouldn't mention what he knew to be true. It wasn't his place. This, right here. This was what she wanted, what he wanted, what they both needed. The connection. "Oh, didn't you get the memo? This isn't a chick flick. This is a porno." His hand moved her panties to the side and he gently thrust two fingers into her wet heat.

She arched off the bed and gasped as he began moving them, finding her sweet spot. "I forgot how receptive you are, Ryan," he murmured as his lips moved all over her chest.

"J-just for you," she panted.

He felt a thrill at that, but remained quiet as he continued taking her up, up, up, until she came apart in his arms.

As she drifted down from her high, he stood one last time, taking those sexy ass plain purple panties with him, and started taking off his pants. When he reached back in them for the condom, she gently reminded him, "You don't need that with me, Dean."

He felt a pang at the realization of why…she couldn't have kids. She'd had a partial hysterectomy at age eleven. But didn't she want to be safe? "Ry…"

She shook her head and held out her hands for him to come closer. "Be with me," she purred. "I need to feel you, Dean."

The boxer-briefs fell to the floor and he was back to her in an instant. "You sure?" he questioned gently as he found his way to nirvana.

She smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

With one gentle thrust, they were joined and she gasped as her nails left score marks in his back. His lips once more attacked hers, his tongue gently probing, thrusting, in time with his movements and she matched him stroke for stroke as they began moving. He took her up and over once more, twice more, playing her like a violin before he allowed himself release, and as he came down, she kissed him tenderly. "Thank you," she whispered.

He moved off of her, but pulled her into his chest and nuzzled her neck. "Thank _you_," he whispered back.

They fell asleep like that, exhaustion and satisfaction finally dragging them into to world of dreams. When he awoke, night was falling. It took him a moment to realize why he had awakened, but then he realized she was kissing him, demanding him again and he eagerly complied. He pulled her on top of him and smiled as she sat up, enveloping him.

His hands traveled to her hips, helping her hit a rhythm that would please them both. When he felt the quickening start, his thumb found her clit and he began taking her up and over before they floated down the other side.

She fell to his chest and kissed his sweaty skin. "You're amazing," she breathed.

He chuckled and tipped her head so he could kiss her lips. "I'm fairly certain that you've got that backwards, Ry."

She smiled at him and laid her head on her arm atop his chest. "No one calls me Ry."

He shrugged and grinned. "Hey, I'm all about nicknames. You should ask Sam what his is."

She giggled. "I know. I heard you once, when you were at my house. Any particular reason you call him 'bitch', Dean?"

He thought a moment. "Well, I figured, if he was going to get teased at school, I'd better toughen him up. Calling him a bitch was just the start of it."

"Did you get teased a lot?" she asked softly.

He thought of the times he'd gone to school in dirty clothes, the holes in them, the fact that they didn't fit… "Yeah, we got our fair share for a while there until I got big enough to do the laundry and learned how to patch holes in shirts and stuff."

"You two went through a lot growing up, didn't you?"

He didn't comment. Their lives were tough, yeah, but they could have been worse. At least they had gone to school. Her life hadn't been the same since she was eleven. She'd barely gone to school, he remembered her saying. And she hadn't gone to high school at all, had she? "It could have been worse," he finally told her.

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She kissed him tenderly.

"You hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really, but I need some sugar and some booze. What about you?"

He grinned. "Sounds good."

He stood and slipped on some pants. "I've got the booze covered." He inclined his head where the bottle of whiskey was waiting on the table by some of his research. "Sugar…"

"I saw a vending machine. Think they've got any Skittles in there?"

He slid on a shirt and stepped into his boots. "I'll go check."

She, too, stood, and slithered into one of his plaid shirts, only buttoning about half the buttons and driving him absolutely mad with want again already. She caught him looking and smirked. "Sugar. Booze. Then sex again."

He pulled her to him and when his mouth was just a breath from hers, he breathed, "Promise?"

She blinked slowly and smiled. "Absolutely."

He kissed her quickly and ducked out the door. He grabbed her bag of Skittles and himself a candy bar then booked it back to the room.

He found her sitting at the small table with two glasses of whiskey already poured and waiting. He handed her the bag and she smiled as she ripped it open and dumped it out onto the table. His eyebrow rose as he watched her separate the colors. He smirked as he sat and sipped his booze. "What are you doing?"

She grinned bashfully. "I, uh, I don't like all the flavors mixed so I eat them one flavor at a time. Well, lemon and grape can be eaten together, but the rest…"

Once she got them all separated, she took two orange and ate them, then two green, then two yellow and two purple…it was fascinating. But she saved all the red. "Don't like the red ones?"

She shook her head. "No, they're my favorite. I save the best for last."

He chuckled under his breath. Sometimes she seemed so childlike and innocent, then other times, she was a badass warrior. She was a woman with sexual desires, but he noticed when they were leaving the restaurant earlier in the day and a man bumped into her and didn't move out of her way fast enough, she got a look of alarm on her face, showing him she was still slightly uncomfortable around men. She was enigma; that much was for sure.

"So, where are you going from here?" she asked, bringing him out of his reverie.

"I don't know. Wherever I hear of something else hooey I guess. Dad sends me coordinates if we aren't together. Usually, though, I find my own jobs."

She nodded noncommittally as she shot the whiskey down.

"What about you?" he questioned.

"I don't know. Guess we'll just have to see what we see."

He wanted to ask her to go hunt with him, to _be _with him. He was lonely when his dad wasn't with him. He didn't want his dad along to hunt with. John made hunting less fun, more work, and it shouldn't be. He should be able to enjoy himself, shouldn't he? Not every case required military strategy. Occasionally he could just wing it, couldn't he? It had served him well enough before. So, no, he didn't enjoy hunting alone, he just enjoyed hunting without John. That's what it was. The question was on the tip of his tongue when she stood and smiled. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to go back to bed."

She slowly began undoing one button and then the other until the expanse of skin between her breasts was exposed, then, down to her belly button, and then, she was standing there with the shirt open showing the fact she hadn't bothered with slipping back into her panties.

His jaw dropped slightly before he grinned. "You ready already?"

Her smile grew. "Unless you're too tired."

He was standing in a flash. "I'm never too tired for you."

* * *

The next time he woke, she wasn't in bed with him. He sat up and looked around, almost relieved her clothes were still in a pool on the floor, her gun and knife tossed next to them, her flask peeking out from under her shirts where he had thrown them. The room was almost black with the exception of the neon glow from the vacancy sign out front.

He heard the toilet flush and water running. He remained quiet as he watched her walk to the little kitchenette to get some water from the tap, poured into one of the whiskey glasses they'd used earlier before she made her way back to bed.

"You okay?" Dean asked sleepily, relaxing now that he realized she hadn't up and left him.

"Yeah. Weird dreams."

He chuckled. He probably should have fed her. The food they grabbed before they hit the second part of their witch hunt had been forever ago. They'd holed up here all damn day and it was dark once more. "We shoulda got some burgers, put you in a food coma. You wouldn't have dreamed about a thing."

She giggled and he held out his hands for her. She dropped willingly into his arms and they began making out. He couldn't get enough of kissing her. "I wanna try something," he whispered in the near dark of the room.

"You know, I'm not very experienced, Dean. I'm not sure I can handle butt sex."

His mouth fell open. _Holy fucking shit. _"God help me, Ryan, I never know what the fuck is going to come out of your mouth."

She giggled again.

He shook his head at her and rolled his eyes as he moved down, down, down, her body. He licked his lips. He had been dying to taste her all day but he hadn't had the opportunity. "No, I was just thinking, I promised you one time I'd show you what my tongue could do."

She whimpered, causing him to grin.

"I bet you've never had anyone do this…" His tongue thrust into her and she groaned as she grasped his short hair.

"Oh, fuck," she muttered as he began teasing her.

He easily figured out where to touch, where to suck, and how to get her right to the edge before he would back off and start her up the mountain again before finally he gave in and she was screaming as her thighs clenched around his head and the orgasm rocked her body.

He slithered back up her and kissed her lips. "Did you like that?" he murmured before he gently attacked her neck once more.

"Yes, God," she moaned.

"Good," he stated as he joined them yet again. There was something different in the air now. It was slow, steady, just their breathing could be heard as they gently moved together. He felt something shift within him, though, he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. But, if he had to guess, he would say it wasn't sex. Oh, no, they weren't just having sex, they were making love. He wasn't entirely sure he'd ever done that before, except for maybe that one time with her at her college.

When they finished, they once more fell soundly asleep, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, his nose buried in her hair.

It was when the sun was fully up in the sky, he woke alone with a note on her pillow; _Winchester, sorry, I had to bail. You know all I want to do is make love to you, but I had stuff to take care of. Thank you. For just being you. I'm sure I'll see you around. Ryan _

She'd left him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Usually he was the one doing the sneaking and the leaving. He stood and walked naked to the window, checking to see if her car was actually gone. It was, leaving the spot next to Baby as empty as his bed. He wasn't quite sure why it bothered him so much.

* * *

**AN2: Damn, is she an idiot or what? Would YOU leave a naked Dean Winchester in bed? I sure as hell wouldn't...oh well. Until next time kids. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave a review on your way out, okay? See you next week where we see some Sam as well. :) **


	5. Closer

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural. I would love to own SOMETHING though. Oh well...**

**Triggers: I don't think there are any in this chapter? Maybe a brief reference, but that's about it. Enjoy!**

**AN: Hopefully you're all enjoying the story! It's got a lot of story left, just maybe not from Dean's point of view. A few chapters left before we switch, just FYI. **

**Song for this chapter: Closer by Nine Inch Nails (yeah, I went there) **

**NOTE: I forgot about the missing year when Sam was in Hell. Sorry about that! I've gone back and changed the timeline in this story. It hasn't changed anything here, but it will in the following chapters. If this is your first time reading, you won't notice it. Thanks!**

* * *

**SEVEN YEARS LATER (This takes place between "Season Seven: Time for a Wedding" and "How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters" if you are interested.**

Dean blew out a breath as they stepped from the car. "I just don't see why we need to bother with checking out this vamp nest, Sammy." He had been arguing his case for the past hundred miles, imploring Sam to see that they needed to stay on this Leviathan thing.

Sam shot him a look. "I know you're all into these Leviathan monsters right now, Dean, and we will get the sons of bitches. But until we have more of a lead, we're stuck playing the waiting game. So, might as well…"

"Blow off some steam?" Dean supplied.

Sam grinned. "You always feel better when you have something evil to kill."

Dean chuckled at that. "True." They walked into the police station and flashed their fake FBI badges.

The bored looking kid behind the counter blinked owlishly up at them through thick rimmed glasses. "Ya'll with Agent Daemon?"

"Agent…?" Sam began, but Dean's mouth split into a wide grin as he saw the woman talking with another cop. _Fuck me, _he thought as he eyed her. She was sexy as hell in 'fake FBI agent' gear of a bad ass grey power suit, a bright silk shirt, and a mischievous set to her face. Her brassy hair was in a knot low on her neck and she had her gun on her side. He imagined that kinky little knife was hidden somewhere in those tight pants, along with an arsenal of other gear he couldn't wait to get her out of.

"Yeah, she's our boss," Dean supplied as he nudged Sam toward her.

"Dean, what…?" Sammy began but Dean ignored his younger brother as he sidled up to her.

"Boss, sorry we are late," Dean told her authoritatively.

Ryan turned and he could see the amusement in her eyes. "Just don't let it happen again, Agent, or the next time punishments will be severe."

He grinned and dropped his voice down lower, so the cop standing there couldn't hear him. "You know I like punishments, Agent Daemon."

She sent him a sour look and turned back to the cop who was eyeing her appreciatively. Dean didn't like it, nor did he like the flirting Ryan was doing with the guy, either, as she continued as if Dean weren't even there. "Sorry, Rick. Do you think my minions and I could look at the case files? Maybe somewhere private? We don't want to disturb anyone…"

"Sure, sure, the small interrogation room is available. Let me get you those case files…" Rick jumped to and yelled for the boxes to be brought into the room. Two other officers grabbed some boxes, sat them on the small table in the room, and exited without a word. Ryan followed him in and she gave him a little wink just before Sam shut the door in his face.

"Did you have to be all over that jerk out there?" Dean demanded when the door hit the jamb, shutting the three of them in the room, away from prying ears and eyes.

She put her hands on her hips. "Hello to you, too, Dean. Glad to see you. It's been seven years. How the hell are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sure, I'd be glad to fuck you, but right now can we concentrate on the case?"

Dean's mouth fell open, as did Sam's and she shook her head and chuckled before she closed the distance between them and hugged Dean. "I've missed you, Winchester," she breathed softly into his neck.

He hugged her back, relishing the feel of her against him. She was pushed closer to his height in the awesome shoes she had on and he quickly imagined the bruises they'd leave on his ass as he fucked her into oblivion. He wouldn't be able to sit for a week. _It would be worth it_, he decided. He then briefly wondered if she could run in them. It was a valid concern if she was going to be on this hunt with them. "Sorry," he breathed into her ear. "I don't like seeing you flirt with other men."

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "You know the only man I have sex with is you, Dean."

He just looked at her in surprise a moment, caught up in what she was saying, not believing it, but appreciating the lie when Sam spoke up, "Uh, I'm still standing here, guys."

Ryan turned from Dean to eye Sam warily. Dean wondered what that was about before she held out a hand for him to shake. "Hello, Sam. It's been a while."

Dean's brow knit in confusion. She had gone from sweet, flirty Ryan, to conservative, guarded Ryan in about three seconds flat. Was he missing something?

Sam looked at her and then Dean with confusion etched in his features, causing Dean to laugh. "Ry, uh, I don't think Sam remembers you."

She blinked. "Dude, I know I'm forgettable, but we just worked a case together last year."

Alarm bells were ringing in Dean's head. "L-Last year?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. Don't you remember, Sam? I hooked up with you and your cousin. We were after a Rawhead. Killed that nasty mother, too."

"A Rawhead?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"Hey, I was almost killed by one of those," Dean said with a grin in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness in the room.

Her eyes grew colder and narrowed as she said, "Yeah, so was I."

Dean swallowed hard. What was he missing?

"I…I don't…" Sam began.

Ryan just nodded. "Yeah. I caught its scent in Kentucky after I scared it off from my…my friend's kid. Chased that fucker all the way until I called Mark for backup in Arkansas, you came with him. You helped me dispose of the damned thing, almost got me killed..."

Sam blinked. "I'm sorry…I don't remember…"

"Don't try to remember," Dean hissed under his breath. He didn't need Sam flipping his shit over a memory. Not now. To Ryan, he said, "Sam has had some…issues with memory."

She just looked from one to the other of them. "Ooookay. Well, anyway, Sam said you were out, Dean. What happened?"

He felt the pang in his chest and he closed his eyes as it hit him. Lisa. Ben. Home. But he put on a grin and shrugged. "Yeah, tried the apple pie life, found it wasn't my deal."

She got a glimmer of something in her eye that made him know she knew he was full of it, but thankfully, she didn't pursue it. "Well, I hate that, but at least you got a vacation. I seem to remember your dad believing monsters didn't take vacations."

He nodded. His dad had said that more than once to him. "They don't, do they?"

"So, we know one another?" Sam asked softly.

She looked him over a moment and Dean briefly wondered if Sam had said or done something to her to cause that caution to be written all over her face. Something happened when she hunted with him, he knew it. She was attempting to be blasé with the comment about almost getting killed, but he knew Ryan well enough to know there was more to this story. He just wasn't sure what.

Ryan just inclined her head. "Yeah. We've met. But before that," her lips quirked, "I was Dean's first exorcism. Yours too, for that matter."

Sam seemed to remember _that_. "Ryan?"

She nodded. "Right in one. See? You never forget your first, am I right?"

Sam chuckled and hugged her. "Well, it's good to see you." He pulled away and Dean was relieved to see Ryan smiling at his brother, all signs of wariness gone from her features. "You're a hunter?"

She nodded. "Yeah, off and on for thirteen years now."

"Off and on?"

She shrugged. "I've had a lot of shit going on in my life."

Dean snorted. The amount of shit they'd had in their lives bordered on ridiculous. Sam still believed it was because they broke all those mirrors that time trying to gank that fucking spirit with the mirror fetish. Well, if that was true, at least one of their seven years sentences was almost up, right? "Yeah, tell me about it." He paused. "You still friends with Bobby?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but we don't see each other, haven't for ages. I talk to him on the phone occasionally. He said you two were neck deep in this Leviathan crapfest."

Dean's nose curled. "Yeah, oily bastards. Nasty ass fucking…" He shook his head. "Anyway, so, vamps?"

She inclined her head as she picked up a case file. "'Fraid so. Definitely a nest, not newbies, but they're slipping up, so they must have a new recruit, really hungry, I suppose. When was the last time ya'll worked a vamp case?"

Dean closed his eyes. He hadn't even thought…the last time was the time he needed the cure. Lisa, Ben, hurting them…screwing up the only good thing he'd ever had…

"Dean?" Ryan asked softly, laying a hand on his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Let's just get this shit taken care of, alright?"

If she was taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor, she didn't let on as she nodded and began telling them what research she had done already. They looked over case files for a few more moments and gathered what they would need to take with them.

"We need to figure out where their nest is," she told them as she slid the paperwork into her satchel.

"Agreed," Sam stated with a nod. "Let's get to the motel and then I can start researching any hidden caves or abandoned warehouses in the area."

Ryan nodded. "Sounds good. I can go to the library if need be and…"

"No, Ryan needs to help me with something," Dean spoke up quickly.

Sam rolled his eyes and Ryan chuckled. "Dean, shouldn't we deal with the research first? I mean, you know I'm a sure thing."

"Research takes one person at best. We don't all need to be looking for a list of abandoned buildings, right?"

Ryan looked at Sam and Sam looked at Dean before Sam just shook his head. "Sure. I'll handle it. You two…do whatever the hell you need to do."

Ryan blinked. "Wow. Okay, thanks, Sam."

Sam blew out a breath. "I'm used to it."

They walked out together and Ryan thumbed her way down the street opposite of where the Winchesters parked. "Demon's this way. You wanna ride, Dean?"

He tossed his keys to Sam and followed her, his long strides eating the distance between them quickly. "I, uh, it's been a while for me, Ryan," he confessed softly. He hadn't been with anyone since Lisa. The thought stung, more than he wanted to admit. And the last time he'd tried, he had wound up in an Egyptian God's courtroom. That had given him pause.

She stopped and looked up at him. "Bobby told me."

He wasn't sure if he should be irritated or surprised. And furthermore, just _what _exactly had Bobby told her? The amount of things that had happened between their last meeting and now…it was long. "Bobby tell you everything?" he asked gruffly.

"Enough," she said softly. "We can talk…"

He didn't need to cry and be a girl. He needed to fuck her and move on. "I don't wanna talk," he pouted.

She smiled softly. "Okay," she purred. "Then we'll do whatever you need, Dean."

"What do you need, Ryan?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"You," was her only response.

* * *

They flew down the highway listening to The Eagles because he honestly didn't give a fuck what they were listening to. He was enjoying watching her. She'd let her hair down from the complicated bun, had tossed off her power suit jacket, and looked young and free as her hair blew around her face from the open windows.

It was in a moment like this he could see how things could have been between them if his mother had lived, if they had grown up side by side in Lawrence. They would have gone to high school together, fought together, loved together… Hell, they'd probably be married with two kids and he'd be working on a beer gut by now. Nah, he'd never get sloppy and fat. It was against his nature.

But the image…her sitting on a picnic blanket while a kid crawled off of it, toward him, it was everything he never had and never knew he wanted. Of course, he couldn't have it, he couldn't have the apple pie life. Lisa and Ben were proof of that. But just for a moment, he pictured it. It made him sad, but at the same time, he was thrilled he could see this side of her, this freedom and happiness radiating from her. He'd never seen her look so happy and he mentioned it as she killed the engine and led him to her door. He heard another car pull in behind them and saw Sam head to the office to get a room. "You look happy."

She smiled at him. "I am happy. Finally."

"It isn't a guy, is it?"

She laughed. "No, it isn't. You think I'd screw around with you on my guy? What kind of tramp do you take me for?" she asked with a giggle. "Nah, I just…I finally have my life figured out. I've got a nice, normal job. I just hunt on the weekends and to keep my skills up. I've found a balance. Not many hunters can. I just…look at the world differently now."

"You'll have to let me in on the secret."

She shrugged. "Life is what you make it, Dean. I just chose to make it good."

"I don't know what that means," he confessed.

She laughed. "Yeah, I'm Oprah over here. Go get your shit, Winchester. I've got an itch only you can scratch."

His eyebrows rose and he mock-saluted her as she unlocked the door and he strode to the car for his bag. Sam came out of the office and Dean looked over at him. "You mind?" He hadn't made it a point of hooking up with chicks for a while now, but he wanted to make sure Sam was still cool with it. They'd been through a lot lately, _Sam _had been through a lot. If his brother wasn't good with it, he would tell Ryan to fuck off. It would kill him, because all he could think about was getting the woman naked, but he would do it for his brother.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, you've got a shit-ton of stuff in your head now. If she can give ya one damn minute of peace, hell, I'll go hunt the damn vampires by myself."

Dean shook his head. "Thanks, man. Me and Ry, well, we go back a ways." _Obviously you two do, as well. Don't think I won't pick Ryan's brain apart for that tidbit of information, later. _Because, he loved Sam, but if Sam had hurt her when he was soulless…he wasn't sure what he'd do to his brother.

"Obviously." Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes. "How many times have you two met up and hunted together?"

"Only once. New Orleans, shortly before Dad went missing."

"You told me you went solo on that trip."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, well, I did _go_ solo. I just met up with Ryan when I got there. Shocked the hell out of me, seeing her there. Last time I saw her, I was walking out of her apartment at Appalachian State University."

"What happened there?"

"Ghost latched onto her. Coincidence there, too."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "You ever think it isn't a coincidence?"

Dean's brows knit. "What else could it be?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing, never mind. I'll get the information together, we can hash it out over at the motel's diner for breakfast. Sound good?"

"Great. Thanks, Sam."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, you're welcome."

Dean was whistling as he made his way into her hotel room. "Where are you?" he called.

"Getting cleaned up," came her reply from the bathroom. "I got booze and chocolate. If you're hungry for anything else, we'll have to order out."

He toed off his shoes. "The only thing I'm hungry for is you," he muttered under his breath. But out loud, he called, "Works for me." He turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening and whistled low. "Damn. So does that." She was standing there in that same shirt with the same suit jacket, but this time, she had a damn skirt on. And…_fuck me…_she still had on the damn shoes.

She smirked. "See something you like?"

"Hell yes, woman. Come here."

She shook her head and sauntered to the iPod dock she must have brought with her. She punched a few buttons and he whimpered as Nine Inch Nails came on. She smirked. "It's cliché as all hell, but the song gets me all hot and bothered."

He stretched his neck, popping it. It was getting him all hot and bothered too. "Good little girls like you shouldn't be listening to songs like this," he muttered as Trent Reznor's voice screamed at them. He had to admit, he wasn't a huge NIN fan, but this song…damn.

She grinned as she began stripping for him. He watched as she made every damn one of his fantasies come true. When she was down to just her light blue panties and bra (and the shoes, thank God she didn't ditch the shoes) she sauntered to him and pushed him onto the bed before she straddled his waist. "Who said I was a good little girl, Dean?"

"Fuck," he muttered as she gyrated on top of him. He could die happily this time. Man, even if she were to stab him with a fucking blade, he would willingly go if this was the last image he saw.

"I've missed you," she breathed as she bent her head to kiss him.

His hands wrapped around her waist as his lips and tongue fought for dominance. When he pulled away, both of them were panting. "Me too." His hands traveled up her back and he quickly unfastened her bra, flinging it across the room before he flipped them and began worshiping her body with his lips, giving little teasing kisses to each inch of skin until he got down low to where her panties sat on her stomach. A hint of blue caught his eye, much darker than her clothing and his eyebrow shot up as he pulled the fabric down to reveal a blocky DW tattooed there. "DW? You marked yourself for me?"

She giggled. "Don't flatter yourself, Dean. It's Doctor Who, a TV show. It's even T.A.R.D.I.S. blue."

He blinked and his gaze roamed up her body to meet her eyes. "I'm sure that is supposed to mean something to me."

She shook her head and pulled his face to hers where she kissed him tenderly. "Don't worry about it." She began unbuttoning his shirt and he tossed the dress shirt to the side before tearing off his under-shirt. "Wow. You got inked," she breathed, fingering the anti-possession tattoo.

He nodded. "Yeah, uh, guess you're not the only one to get possessed by a demon."

She gave him a sorrowful look. "Did you hurt anyone?"

He shook his head. It wasn't him. He'd _seen _himself as a demon in that damn dream with that wicked dream root stuff, he had tortured souls in hell, but he had never been possessed. "Nah, I've done worse than that now. That was forever ago." He paused. "I'm not a good man anymore, Ryan. Truthfully, I'm not sure I ever was."

Her finger went to his lips, silencing him. "None of us are good, Dean. Not one. We just try our best." She sat up and moved her hair to the side so he could see her own anti-possession tattoo sitting between her shoulders, though, hers was surrounded by angel's wings that spread over her shoulders to touch the tops of her arms. She also had the words "non timebo mala," and some interesting markings underneath he would have to ask her about later. There were also scars running through the right wing. Claw marks, he was betting, making it look as if her wing was broken. He wanted to ask her about that, but it was the angel wings that caused him to snort. "Angel wings? Really? Fucking angel douchebags."

She giggled. "Let me guess…had a few bad run-ins, did we?"

"Yeah. Of course, Bobby told you, didn't he?" he stated sulkily as he pulled away slightly.

Her lips pursed. "We don't sit around and gossip about the Winchesters, Dean," she admonished. "Bobby and I often have important stuff to discuss."

"Why haven't you called me?" he asked suddenly and then felt the urge to kick himself in the ass. _Did I really just ask her that?! What the hell is wrong with me!_

She blinked. "Wow. Are we really having this conversation? _Now?_"

He shook his head. "No, I mean, yes, I…damn it, Ryan, I just figured I would have heard from you once or twice." _Jesus! Now I sound like a pathetic little bitch!_ It was evident he was out of practice with the opposite sex. _Maybe I should go put in my manpon and get the hell out of here. _

"The phone works both ways, Dean," she stated hotly. "I'm sorry I didn't call you. Like I said, I've had shit going on in my life. And from what I hear, you've been busy. I'm not pissy over the fact I've not heard from you in seven years, you shouldn't be either."

He blew out a breath and realized she was right. Besides the fact that he had stupidly deleted her number after too much booze and reflecting on her leaving him that night, he wouldn't have been in the right place emotionally to have seen her anyway. He knew that. And if he were being honest with himself, being here with her probably wasn't his greatest idea, but he'd never been one for great ideas anyway.

She seemed to be watching him think because she smiled. "Got your shit straightened out in that pretty little head of yours, Winchester? Ready to come back to the now, are we?"

"You little…" he began as he started tickling her.

Her cries and giggles soon gave way to moans as his tickles became gentle touches that were meant to excite her and it took no time at all to have her panting and wanting beneath him. "Please, Dean," she breathed as her hands dove to him, stroking him in his pants. "I need you."

He tore his lips from her neck and stood in a flash, stripping naked quickly before pouncing on her once more. Her eyes were blazing with longing as she growled, "Fuck me, Dean."

He didn't even finish undressing her as he moved her panties to the side and plunged into her. They both cried out in ecstasy as she welcomed him into her heat. "Fuck, Dean," she panted as his hands moved all over her.

"God, you feel incredible," he muttered as his mouth descended to hers. His lips were gentle, yet demanding as her hands grazed his back. God help him, it felt good being in her, like he'd been wandering in the desert and found a drink of water. Her body welcomed him like he'd never left.

Her hands moved over him softly squeezing, massaging his tense muscles and he relaxed into her touch even as he continued to move. She rolled them so she was on top and she moved away from him. He was man enough to admit he whimpered, causing her to smirk as she stood and shimmied playfully out of her underwear before she came back to him and straddled his waist. "I think it's time I ran the show, Dean."

He was all smiles and put his hands behind his head as if he were about to take a nap. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

She lifted herself just slightly before she plunged onto him and his eyes rolled back in his head even as his hands came forward to grasp her hips. "God…so…fucking…" he muttered as she moved.

He looked up at her and was enraptured at the sight of her. She looked like a siren, a witch, a goddess, all power and lust, sent to this world to torture a man so exquisitely he would willingly fall at her feet and worship her.

Her hands traveled up to her hair and she brushed it out of her eyes as his hands traveled up her sides to come around to her breasts. God, he loved her breasts. They fit perfectly in his large hands, almost as if they were made to do so. He fondled each one, causing her to cry out in pleasure as he worked over her nipples before he pulled her down to him to lave each one with his mouth.

She made that face, the one that let him know she was close. Her breath caught and she held it, just like she always did when she orgasmed. His hands traveled once more to her hips, helping her move as the orgasm ripped through her, rendering her almost immobile as the sensations flowed through her. She slid down to him, sated, and he chuckled as he rolled them. "Just lay back, Ryan, let me do all the work now."

She smiled lazily as she looked up at him. "I don't know if you can get another one out of me, Dean. That was terrific."

His smile was predatory as he said, "Oh, I consider that a challenge…" He wasn't one to disappoint.

* * *

They lay sated, sweaty, and breathless as they both came down from their highs. "Fuck me, that was excellent," she muttered.

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her naked breast. "You act as if it's been years, Ryan."

"It has been," she breathed.

"What?"

She looked at him and turned over onto her stomach to look him in the eye. "It _has_ been years, Dean. I haven't been with anyone."

"Since me?!" he asked, bewildered.

She nodded and kissed his chest, biting his nipple just slightly, sending a shiver through him.

"But…why?" he inquired. She was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever been with. She was bad ass and kind and not afraid of anything… "Ryan, why haven't you been with anyone else?"

She shrugged and turned away from him to stand. He watched as she slipped on his undershirt and her underwear. She'd lost the shoes sometime during the sex, though he wasn't exactly sure when. It got a little hazy after he got naked. "I'm hungry. Want me to call in something to eat?"

"Ryan…" he warned as he sat up.

She turned to him and he hated seeing the sadness in her eyes. "Look, Dean, you know I'm messed up, right? So, I'm not comfortable around men, except you. Sue me."

"Ry, that's not…well, it's not the healthiest thing in the world."

She let out a flat laugh. "Hello? Are you listening to yourself? Like you're the poster child for healthy living?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, you're right, but still, Ry, you've gotta try…"

Her eyebrow rose and she sauntered back to the bed and slithered up to him. "You mean to tell me you _want _me to be with other guys? You want to know that I _fuck _other men? You want to know that other men have been _inside _me, Dean?"

She was bating him. He knew it, accepted it, and yet…he grabbed her arms and forced her onto her back as he hovered over her with both her wrists in his hand above her head. He had two choices now; either he kissed her until they fucked again and avoided this topic, or he got what was on his chest out in the open. He wasn't the type comfortable with his feelings, but he knew she needed to hear what he had to say. "No, you know that's not what I want. Damn it, Ryan, of course a man wants to think a woman's only ever been with him. We're simple creatures. But I know, for a fact, I know, you need to be with men besides me."

Something warred in her eyes, something he couldn't make out, but it was gone before he could decipher it and cold petulance settled in its place. "Well, I don't want to. Why would I settle for ground chuck when I could have Grade: A Sirloin?"

He blinked and grinned despite himself. "Did you just compare me to a side of meat?" He wasn't sure how to take that…was it a compliment?

She giggled and reached up to kiss his lips. "Dean, I'm not interested in sex, well, except with you. It's not a big thing, I just don't feel safe enough to let myself go around anyone else. Consider it a compliment or not, I don't care, but that's how I feel."

"So…really, just me?" _Damn it, Dean, shut the fuck up already! _he growled internally.

She smiled. "Yes."

"Wow." He didn't quite know how to process that. "Why me?"

Her smile grew. "Just because you're you."

He felt like he needed to say more, to ask more, to just…get more information out of her, but he couldn't. Not right now. Not when the emotions were rolling through him like a storm on the ocean. It was bubbling and building like a hurricane and the gale force winds were starting to blow.

As if she sensed it, she gave him a peck on the lips and snuck out from under him, breaking his hold on her wrists. "Pizza, burgers, or Chinese?"

"Burgers, definitely," he stated without thinking.

"No onion," she declared flatly as she reached for the phone book on the beside table.

"Damn it." He loved onion. "Chili cheese fries?" he asked hopefully.

She grinned. "And milkshakes."

"Sold."

She called in the order while he got dressed. She was good…she somehow knew just exactly what to order him and Sam as well. That reminded him… "What happened between you and Sam?" he asked when she hung up the phone and sauntered to the bathroom to clean up a bit.

"What?" she asked from behind the door.

"Between you and Sam," he clarified as she walked out, now naked once more. He looked away from her then, to give her a hint of privacy, not that she needed it. She seemed completely comfortable to be sashaying around nude in front of him. "I saw you," he told her. "You were…cold, Ryan. I've never seen you like that."

She shrugged. "You don't know me very well, Dean," she stated offhandedly as she rummaged around in her duffle.

"Don't hand that to me, Ryan. I know you plenty well enough."

She slid into a pair of jeans _sans underwear, _he noted, and into a tee shirt _minus a bra, score! _before she looked at him. "It was nothing."

He forced himself to focus on their conversation as she sat to put on her boots. "No, Ryan, it was something. I saw…fear in your eyes. You were scared of Sam."

"He didn't act like he did today."

"He was soulless," Dean told her quickly. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain his kid brother to her, but he wanted to. "He was soulless and almost got me killed, too."

She paused as she laced up one boot and glanced at him. "Does that make it okay?" she questioned hotly.

"No, of course not, I just…what happened?"

"I told you. A Rawhead came after kids in my town. I chased it from Kentucky down through Tennessee, to Arkansas. I called Bobby, who gave me Mark's number, which I already had. He brought Sam along, told me you guys were cousins."

"Yeah, and?"

She took a breath and blew it out. "And we hunted the damn thing. Set a trap, killed it."

"And you almost got killed?" he prompted.

She opened her mouth and closed it once, as if trying to decide what to say.

"Don't spare my feelings, Ryan. If he did something to you, said something to you…Sam was a real douche without his soul. He looked at things differently."

A tear ran down her face and she shook her head. "It's fine. He said…some stuff, nothing that would have bothered me had it come from you, I was just…on edge. He was…he was scary, I guess is a good word for it. I don't scare easily anymore, but he scared me."

Dean's hands balled into fists. For her to admit Sam scared her, that meant he'd come onto her, and didn't want to take 'no' for an answer. _What the fuck happened?_ He knew Sam without a soul was like him on ecstasy, he'd fuck anything that stood still. But he hadn't _hurt _Ryan, did he? "He didn't…" he couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, he asked, "Do I need to…?"

"No. He didn't touch me, Dean."

"You promise?"

She smiled slightly at that. "Even soulless, I don't think Sam is capable of _that, _do you?"

He wasn't sure _what _Sam was capable of without a soul. He didn't want to think about it.

"Besides, he didn't know, did he? You said he doesn't remember that time. I believe you. And talking to him what little I did today, I have to see how he was last time wasn't the norm."

"You got hurt…" he insisted. "The claw marks on your back…they were from the Rawhead, weren't they?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "It had my scent, so we knew it wouldn't let me take the kids upstairs. Sam and I fought it. It threw us both around a little bit. Sam shoved me, I landed against it, it dug its claws into me, Sam killed it."

He waited for more, and when she didn't speak again, he shook his head. He didn't want to know, but he couldn't stop himself from asking; "Did he push you into that thing on purpose?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know. Right after it happened, I was sure, but then he seemed remorseful for it, so I thought maybe I was imagining things. It's all good. I healed." Her tone suggested she still hold a grudge, though. "It's fine, Dean," she stated tiredly. "Look, I don't know if he did it on purpose or not, and now that it's over? It doesn't matter one damn bit. I lived through it."

"He really isn't like that…" Dean began.

She smiled softly. "I know. I'm a friend of Bobby's, remember?"

Dean winced. "Sometimes…well, I don't think Bobby is Sam's biggest fan…" Sam had said and done a lot of shit to Bobby through their relationship.

She shook her head. "Bobby loves you boys, both of you."

_We love him too, _but Dean didn't say it. He was a Winchester. They might use a lot of four letter words, but "love" wasn't one of them. Not even dying breaths were used for the "L" word. "Come on, let's go over to Sam's room, hash this stuff out, see if he's found anything useful…"

He held the door open for her and she smiled slightly as she walked out. He glimpsed across the way and saw a vending machine. "Damn, I could use some M&M's. You want something?"

She rolled her eyes. "The food is on its way, Dean."

"But I'm hungry now," he couldn't help the whine.

She giggled. "Sure. Whatever is fine. The only candy I don't eat is Whoppers and licorice."

"You don't eat licorice either? Damn communists. What's the matter with you and Sam?"

She laughed out loud. "Let it go, Dean."

He pointed out which room was Sam's before muttering under his breath as he walked to the machine. "No taste, either of them. What's their deal? Can't believe they don't like licorice…" He walked up to the machine and peeked inside. They didn't have M&M's, he guessed because it was an outside machine, but they did have Skittles for her and Twizzlers for him, so he supposed that would work. He grabbed both items, also buying a pack of gum, then made his way back to Sam's room.

He walked in and saw Ryan pointing at something on the computer screen over Sam's shoulder. Their heads were close together as they discussed locations of the vampire nest and his heart warmed. Ryan must be the forgiving sort, because when she lifted her head, he saw no animosity toward his younger brother. That was nice. He didn't want there to be friction. Besides, if they were going to work together, they needed to work _well _together.

He tossed her the bag of candy and she caught it deftly. He was glad. The woman had some great reflexes. _In every area, apparently. _

She glanced down at the candy in her hand and her brows knit. He wondered briefly if maybe she didn't like them anymore when she whispered, "You remembered."

He blinked at her tone. She almost sounded close to tears. _What's up with that? _he wondered, but he just shrugged as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, yeah. You do still like Skittles, don't you?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Still separate them to eat them?" he teased.

She chuckled and sat in the chair next to Sam before she ripped the bag open, up-ending it onto the table. "Damn right I do," she muttered as she began separating them.

He saw Sam glance between the two of them and Dean laughed. "Don't ask, Sammy. She's…finicky."

"Ain't done it," she muttered as she finished her task and tossed a purple one at him. He maneuvered so he could catch it in his mouth and she giggled. "I didn't know you were a circus freak, Dean."

"Ha, ha, ha," he deadpanned. She didn't have quite the southern accent she did as a child, or even in college, but every once in a while, it was definitely there. He held in a smile as he asked, "So, we gonna talk strategy, or are you going to feed me food like I'm some kind of sheik or something?"

She rolled her eyes. "As if your already inflated ego needs a boost."

"You can't inflate what is known to be…big," he told her.

She shot him a look before she turned to Sam. "As I was saying…" then she was off, describing what must have been her previous vampire hunt. He listened intently as she regaled Sam with the tale, making him laugh as she described hunting with a fellow hunter who really wasn't cut out for the life, but he marveled at her. She was a hunter, a damn good one, probably even better than himself. She had the physical stamina, too. He hadn't seen her in action, but as she told the story, he could imagine her in his mind's eye. She would make an excellent hunting companion for someone if only she would agree to hunt full time. He wondered what was holding her back from that, but decided now wasn't the time to ask.

They switched gears then and talked about their current case, pausing only when the food was delivered and she refused to let them pay for it. When Dean started to argue with her, her eyebrow shot up. "This ain't a date, Dean. If it was, your ass would be taking me out for a damned rib eye steak at a restaurant I have to wear a dress to. Capice?"

He could only nod then, wondering how good she would look going out on a date with him. Did she even own a dress? He'd never seen her in one.

"So…" Sam began. He had a few ideas of where the nest could be and they decided to hit it in the morning after first light since the vamps were a bit more sensitive in the daytime.

"Ya'll got your machete's sharpened?" Ryan asked as she stole one of Dean's fries.

He smirked. "Careful," he admonished. "You'll draw back a nub."

She leaned over and bit _his_ finger before stealing another fry.

"Evil wench," he growled.

She giggled and popped a cheese stick in his mouth.

"Ahhh," he said around the gooey deliciousness. "Nirvana."

She rolled her eyes and swiped some of his milkshake.

"Damn it, woman, why you stealing my food? A man's gotta keep up his energy!"

"One swig of chocolate, Dean. For fuck's sake, you're such a child. I just wanted to try it."

"Well why the fuck didn't you order a chocolate one?"

"Because I wanted to try the peach," she stated simply. "The guy said it was one of their special flavors."

Dean glared at her for a moment.

Ryan smiled seductively, evilly, before she lowered her voice and breathed, "Besides, I could eat a peach for _hours._"

His brain short circuited at that statement and he sat there, dumbfounded. _Aaaaannnnddd…cue the erection_, he thought.

He heard Sam clapping from across the table. "Bravo, Ryan. A Plus for the use of the perfect 'Face/Off' quote, and extra bonus points for rendering Dean Winchester speechless."

Ryan smirked and offered Sam a high-five.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he heard Sam trying and failing to hold in a snort of laughter. He cut his eyes his brother's way. "Something funny, little brother?"

Sam just grinned and nodded his head. "I think you met your match, Dean."

Dean agreed with him.

Ryan got up then and walked to the wall where Sam had taped up a map of the area along with pen marks of the most likely locations for the nest. Dean watched her long fingers trailing over the lines that signified roads. "How many vamps you think are there?"

"Well," Sam began, and Dean heard his voice change, all playfulness gone as he slipped into research mode. "Usually there aren't many in a nest, though, we have seen an increase…"

"But that was last year," Dean threw out. "That was before the alpha was taken and then escaped."

"Alpha?" she asked as she sank back down into the chair.

Sam nodded. "Every creature has a…a father, a first-born of the evil, from Eve, who was the creator of vampires, werewolves, monsters in general. The alphas are the first ones."

"And they're still alive?"

Sam shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

Ryan let out a snort. "Too true."

Dean faked a yawn and stretched. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get my four hours in."

Ryan's eyebrow rose. "Dean, it's like, eight o'clock. I'd say we have a while before first light."

He leaned into her and whispered, "Yeah, but I'm not done having my wicked way with you yet."

She leaned back, gave him a mischievous smirk, and stood. "Goodnight, Sam."

Sam grinned despite himself. "Goodnight, Ryan."

Both men watched as she sauntered to the door and left. Sam let out a low whistle. "You sure you know what you're doing with this chick, Dean?"

Dean couldn't help the grin. "Not a fucking clue."

"At least you're honest," Sam replied.

Dean was still smiling as he made his way back to her room. He walked in and found her lounging on the sofa with a book in her hand, reading. A glance at the TV showed something playing with the volume turned down low. "And just what do you think you're doing?"

She shrugged as she basically ignored him and continued reading as she spoke; "You're tired. So I just figured I would read a little while…"

He plopped next to her on the sofa and instead of asking her, moved her hand slightly to see what she was reading. "Harry Potter? Really? Don't we get enough of witches as it is?" _Do you not remember a witch almost killed you last time we were together? _He hadn't forgotten what she told him about the hex bag in her room.

She grinned. "I like the stories. If witches acted like this, I wouldn't care so much."

"At least you're not reading those shitty vampire books."

She looked at him and he sighed. "No, God, don't tell me you've read them."

She rolled her eyes. "They aren't quite that bad."

"I thought you had decent taste."

She just shrugged again.

"Why do you want to read about that kind of stuff anyway? We live it."

She looked at him and smirked. "I like to pick them apart. Me and a few other female hunters have decided we should write our own books where the heroine makes the monster think she fell in love with him then rip his heart out and kill him."

"It would sell millions," he mused.

She nodded. "I know. Now, to just find one of us that can write worth a damn…"

He turned his attention to the TV, wondering how long it would take before she gave in to him, but she kept reading, maneuvering so she was resting against him. It was…comfortable. But he wasn't ready to relax and be comfortable. He was already jonesing for his next hit of Ryan. So, he did what any redblooded man would do. He grabbed her legs, turning her around to put her feet in his lap. He then slowly and deliberately tossed her boots to the floor and started massaging.

At first, it looked like he wouldn't break her, but then he started moving his hands up her calves, massaging, then, moved to her thighs, and then, finally, thank _God _she let out a moan and tossed her book to the floor.

He pulled her legs until she was lying on the sofa under him. She looked up at him and smiled. "You know, if you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask."

He nuzzled her neck as his hands began roaming over her chest, squeezing, pinching, eliciting whimpers of pleasure from her. "I'm not asking. I'm telling."

She grinned. "I like Dominating Dean. He's sexy."

"Is that so? And what other Deans do you like?"

She shoved him away so he was sitting once more and she straddled his waist as her hands fisted in his short hair. "Every Dean. Every single one."

He pulled her tee shirt off, dragging her flannel shirt with it thankful she was braless underneath. "You know, you wear too many clothes."

She giggled. "I'm not the only one, Winchester," she admonished gently as she, too, divested him of his shirts.

"Guess we need to remedy that."

She shook her head and slithered down him to unfasten his pants. She looked up at him with hooded eyes. "Do you like it when a woman goes down on you, Dean?"

He'd be lying if he said 'no' so he just nodded softly. "But, uh, you don't have to…"

She smirked and kissed his stomach. "Dean, just because I don't have the physical experience, doesn't mean I don't grasp the practical application. I'm a reader."

"They have books on this subject?" he squeaked as she tugged his pants down, freeing him.

She licked her lips predatorily and nodded. "Oh, yes. And I'm a quick learner."

Her hot breath ghosted over him and his eyes rolled back in his head as she began her torture.

* * *

Hours later, he was woken out of a dead sleep by a scream that pierced the night. "Ryan?" he murmured, feeling for her. When he realized he was alone, he jumped up. "Ryan? Ryan where are you?"

A quick glance around the room and the bath showed that she wasn't there. He threw on the pair of jeans that were piled next to the couch, grabbed his gun, and dashed out the door barefoot just as Sam emerged from his room down the way. "What was that?" Sam asked sleepily, though Dean noticed he, too, had his gun in his hand.

Dean ignored him as he ran toward the vending machine where a purse was spilled out on the ground next to a knife and small pool of blood. He thought he recognized the knife and he felt dread pit in his stomach. A peek at the fake driver's license declared his worst thoughts had been realized. "God, no…" it was Ryan's.

"Damn it!" Dean shouted into the night.

"Calm down, man."

"Calm down? How the fuck do I calm down? Who took her, Sammy? Huh?"

Their eyes met and Dean felt the blood leave his face. "God…you don't think…"

"If there is a nest, and they're on the offensive because they've got a newbie in their midst, they would be looking for hunters…"

"Fuck," Dean bit out as he gathered her purse and knife. He didn't say anything to Sam as he made his way back to Ryan's room. He dressed in record time and quickly dashed to Sam's room. "What have you found, Sammy?" Dean asked as soon as he breached the door. He knew his brother had to have continued his research after he and Ryan went back to her room.

Sam was just tying his boots. "Well, I've got to think the vampires know we're here. That's why they took her. Someone knows we're here. And that someone is pissed."

"Damn it to fucking hell! Why her?"

Sam shrugged. "It could be just because they got her alone. What was she doing out there anyway?"

"Vending machine. She's got a sweet tooth. After sex, she usually likes chocolate. We, uh, we ran out earlier in the night…guess she didn't know the vending machine didn't have chocolate in it…"

Sam chuckled flatly. "Okay, well, after you two…left, I found a few more abandoned buildings their nest could be in. After looking at geological surveys as well as growth in a few of the areas, I narrowed it down to two, but the most likely place is an old textile plant just off the Interstate. It seems the most logical place they could be."

Dean nodded. "Great. Let's get our shit together and get her back…"

"Dean, if they took her out of spite, the odds of her being alive…"

"Damn it, Sammy, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it! And when we find her alive, you can apologize to her for not believing her strong enough to live through whatever the hell they want to do with her."

Sam stopped short. "That's just it…why her? Obviously it's a trap, but you don't think they would…"

Dean paled as he realized, just like with Gordon, and with himself, the most satisfying thing for a vampire to do was to turn a hunter. "God, we've got to move, Sammy! We've got to get her before it's too late!"

* * *

Dean drove like a hellhound was on his ass, making the trip that should have taken twenty minutes in just under eight. If Sam was terrified of his driving, or had reservations about storming the nest in the middle of the night, he had the common sense to keep his damn mouth shut and didn't make a sound as they made their way to find the nest.

They stopped just about a half mile from the building and gathered up syringes of dead man's blood as well as their machetes and a few other tools they might need. "We got everything for the cure?" Dean bit out as he stowed a few additional syringes in his pants pocket.

"Yeah. After…after you, I made sure we kept the stuff in here, just in case."

Dean shot him a look. "Glad to see, even soulless, you were a decent hunter."

Sam sent a sour look his way, but stayed silent. They hiked the rest of the way in and cautiously made their way into the building.

The outside wasn't guarded, and that put both their backs up as they stayed on high alert looking for vampires as Sam picked the lock and they made their way inside. One, two, three, and then five, six, seven, vampires came out of the woodwork until they were surrounded. Dean smiled as one of them eyed him hungrily. "You want a bite, little bit?" he asked the girl who couldn't have been more than five feet tall.

"Pity Monroe said we can't play with our food," she pouted. "I would enjoy playing with you!" she lunged and the fight was on. It seemed as though every time one vampire went down, two more took its place and the fight went on forever it seemed. Both Winchesters were exhausted as they fought until the sun began lighting the dark space. Finally, with blood sprayed all over them, they deemed themselves winners of this particular battle and went in search of Ryan.

They made their way to the end of a long, narrow hallway to a locked door where they heard moaning. "This is it," Dean muttered as he dropped down to pick the lock. Just then, two more vampires came up on them.

Sam worked keeping them busy while Dean finished the lock and Dean whipped around, beheading a third trying to sneak up on them. They dispatched the two Sam was fighting and Dean spat, "Damn it. How many of these fuckers are there?"

"T-twenty-three," came the weak reply from inside the room. _Ryan. Thank God, _Dean thought. "I took out four before they got the best of me…" she added.

Dean and Sam rushed in to find Ryan lying on the floor in a pool of blood, bite marks marring most of her scantly clad body. "God, Ryan, are you okay?" Dean asked as he dropped down beside her.

"N-no," she began feebly.

Dean helped her to a sitting position and looked at her. "Sam…" he started moments before her eyes went wild and she tried to attack him. "Damn it!" he cried as they both went down.

Sam grabbed her and held her arms behind her back as she snarled, teeth descended.

"Fuck," Dean muttered as he looked at her. "Just what we need. You got a plan?"

Sam's eyebrow shot up. "Me?" he managed as he held the thrashing woman. "You're asking _me_ if I have a plan?"

Dean just shot him a glare before he winced and stood. She was strong for a woman, being a hunter, but being a vamp was giving her super strength. He was sore just from him attacking her already. "Ryan, Ryan, baby, come on, you gotta tell me which one did this to you, okay?"

She was about half wild and he grasped her face as she snarled. "Ryan! Damn it, listen to me!"

"Kill me!" she screamed. "Do it! Before I hurt you!"

He gripped her shoulders, higher than where Sam was holding her. "Ryan, we can fix this!"

"Dude, she's way more crazed than you were at this stage of the transformation. Why do you think that is?" Sam wondered aloud.

Dean didn't know and he didn't care as he eyed her.

Suddenly, her eyes widened in awareness. "Dean, wait, before you kill me, I gotta tell you something…"

"Shut the fuck up, Ryan. Which bloodsucker did this?"

"Th-the pale one, albino looking dude. Dean…" she snarled again and lurched in Sam's arms.

Yeah, she was way more crazed than he had been, but he hadn't been bitten, either. She looked as though she was running about a quart low. They would probably need to get her a blood transfusion, too and he thanked God he was O Negative. "You didn't feed, did you, Ryan?" When she wouldn't stop squirming, Dean slapped her across the face.

Instead of being pissed like he figured she would, she started whining and moaning. "God, you smell so good…your blood is so loud…"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I remember that. It's a bitch, too."

"What?"

Dean shook his head. "Never mind. I'll explain later. Did you drink human blood? Damn it, Ryan, it's important!"

"No! No! I need it, Dean. Kill me before it's too late. But you need to go to my room…look in my bag. I have to tell you…"

"Shut up," he commanded again. "I'll fix you and save your ass again, Ryan."

She smirked, a brief vision of her former self. Dean sucked in a breath. "Sorry, sweetheart, this is for your own good," he muttered before he cold-clocked her.

She went limp in Sam's arms and Sam caught her as she slumped. "Think we can get her back to the motel before she wakes?"

Dean blew out a breath. "Here's hoping…" he eyed her warily the whole way out of the warehouse, keeping an eye out for any other vampires on the way to the car. He held the door to the Impala open and Sam slipped her onto the back seat. "I'll-I'll stay with her," Dean stated uncertainly. "She said it was an albino looking dude that bit her."

Sam looked at his brother for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but Dean narrowed his eyes. "God, Sammy, go, alright?"

Sam shot him a look and ran back to the warehouse. Dean looked down at the unconscious woman before he slipped into the back seat with her, swiping her hair away from her face as he picked up her head and put it in his lap. They had stripped her down to just her underwear and his tee shirt and he could see all the bite marks. He counted them and his anger grew. There were two or three very close to the juncture of her thighs and he fervently hoped they hadn't done anything else to her besides bit her and gave her the vamp blood. He would never be able to forgive himself if they had done…that to her. He couldn't even think the word.

Sam came jogging back just a few minutes later and with raised eyebrows, slid behind the wheel as Dean tossed him the keys. "Drive, man," Dean choked out.

Sam nodded and the ride back to the motel was silent.

When they arrived, Dean picked her up carried her back into her room. He contemplated laying her on the bed, but Sam walked over and held out a chair to sit her in. "I'll get the chains," Sam commented before he strode back out to the car.

He held her up until Sam wrapped the chains around her tightly and padlocked them. "Is that really necessary, man?" Dean asked.

"She almost bit your head off after being only a few hours old, Dean. I don't know if it's because her sire was super close to the alpha, or if it is because she was bitten so many times, or if it's something else entirely, but it isn't normal. I'm not even sure this will work."

"Of course it will!" Dean shouted. "It has to!"

Sam held up his hands. "Dude, I'm just being practical. She didn't act like you did."

"How many newbie vamps you seen, Sam? Maybe it's cuz she's a woman. Maybe it's cuz she was bitten. Hell, I don't think we'll ever know. But we can't just chop her head off and call it done, ya know?"

Sam nodded. "I brought in the first aid kit so we can bandage those bites. She should be alright, but they need to be cleaned and fixed up."

Dean nodded. "I'll do that. We got any whiskey?"

Sam pulled the bottle out of the bag. "Yep. I think we need to give her some blood, too. We get the vamp out of her and we can give her a pint or two. You going to give her blood or you want me to?"

"I'll do it."

Sam's jaw ticked, but he didn't say anything. Dean didn't say it, but he didn't want Sam's truck of crazy mixed with Ryan's bucket of crazy to send the girl into overdrive. He didn't know how much of that shit went through the blood, but he figured his blood might not be quite as tainted as Sam's.

"Alright, well, I'm going to go get her some Gatorade and crackers for after the treatment. You know you felt like shit for hours after it was done and over with."

Dean nodded. "Thanks, Sam. Really."

"She's gonna be okay," Sam said softly, putting his hand on Dean's arm.

Dean eyes lit on Ryan. She looked pitiful with bite marks all over her, still dressed in a dirty tee-shirt and underwear, chained to a damn chair. "I hope so."

He turned to the bathroom just as he heard Sam close the door. He grabbed towels and washcloths, then began patching her up as best he could around the chains. He hated seeing her in them, but understood she probably needed them. They didn't need her coming to and escaping.

After he counted all eighteen bite marks and growled as he cleaned and bandaged each one, he went to her bag and rummaged through it looking for her some clean clothes to change into. He found her clothes organized neatly in rolls and he smirked a little. They had a lot in common, but she was more like Sam in regards to her organizational and OCD personality traits. He found a roll that was extremely soft. He unrolled a tee shirt with Tinkerbelle on it and a pair of black yoga pants. He figured she had probably brought those to sleep in. _Too bad. You slept naked. With me, _he thought with a smirk. He then snooped around until he found the pouch containing her underclothes. He snagged a pair of light green underwear, which, to be honest, kinda made him feel a bit pervy, digging through her panties, and he also was borderline ashamed at his reaction to said digging.

He cleared his throat and sat the items aside. It was then, he noticed her phone. He felt bad for not having her number. He should go into her phone and find it, right? He turned it on and the face of a smiling girl lit her screen.

He smirked at the kid, wondering who she was. Ryan didn't have any family left that he knew of. Her words of _you don't know me very well _rang in his head. Well, that much was true. Maybe she had a cousin or something. Or a best friend with kids. He didn't mull over it too long though. He quickly went to her contacts and found "My Number" and put it in his phone. Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he scrolled through her list of contacts. She had a ton of them, quite a few he recognized like Bobby Cell, Bobby Other Cell, Bobby Other Other Cell, Bobby FBI number, then he scrolled down to the W's…there he was. She still had his number. She had Sam's numbers, too. He quickly added in his other numbers just in case she would ever need him, then shut her phone back off.

She moaned and he blinked, realizing Sam should be back soon so they could start making the cure.

He stopped, though, and looked at her another moment. She was almost dead because of him. If she had been hunting on her own, she would have been more cautious, would have watched herself better. Granted, it would have taken someone else to have hunted with her to slay that whole nest, but she would have called someone else in. She was cautious, he could tell. She didn't run into the fray like he did, with barely a thought, just the thrill of battle in his blood. She was a thinker, a planner, like Sam, not a grunt like him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't put her in danger this way again. It was stupid.

With his mind made up, he quickly gathered his clothes from the night before, his stuff, what little he had gotten out of his bag, in any case, and packed it all away in his duffle, sitting it on the end of the bed. When Sam got back, he'd have him go gather his stuff. They needed to leave. He couldn't…he would do something stupid if he was around her much longer. That connection he felt every time she was near was almost too much for him. He couldn't…he just…couldn't.

He went and cleaned himself up a bit, changing into a shirt that wasn't covered in dried vamp blood, washed off his face, downed a shot of whiskey, and by the time he finished, Sam was back with the supplies.

"What'd you get?" Dean wanted to know.

"Grabbed the gear from the trunk, then got some Gatorade for her and some crackers, plus some Gatorade for you."

"The fuck I need Gatorade for?"

Sam shot him a look. "Dude, you already lost some blood from getting beat around that damn warehouse. You're going to give Ryan some more. The Gatorade will at least replace your electrolytes."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shoulda become a nurse, _Samantha_."

"Ha, ha, fucking ha," Sam deadpanned as he began sitting out the ingredients.

The brothers worked side by side preparing the elixir, both quiet with their own thoughts. "She should be waking up soon, don't you think?" Dean asked suddenly. Rarely had he hit someone to knock them out then sat around waiting for them to wake up. "I didn't hit her too hard, did I?"

Sam held in a smirk, but shook his head. "She'll be fine, Dean. You hit like a girl."

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath.

"Jerk," Sam replied just as softly.

Dean's eyes darted to Sam, who was smiling. "Dude, she's fine. We get this cure in her, she'll be perfect." He paused. "Do you wanna…I mean…we can research the Leviathans from here…"

Dean shook his head. He couldn't do this. Hadn't he already decided that? One night was fine, but he couldn't have feelings for this girl. Not now, not right after Lisa and Ben. "Let me finish this, you go pack the car."

"But…Dean…"

"Do it, Sam. She'll take the cure, we'll stay, make sure she's okay, then we're gone. We need to hit the road."

Sam's bitchface made an appearance. "You're being an asshole about this."

Dean shrugged. "What else do I know to be? Asshole should be my middle name."

Sam didn't argue with him.

"Look, she's got her own life, man, we can't go dragging her into ours."

"Maybe she wants to be dragged into your life, Dean," Sam reminded him softly.

Dean shook his head. "Me and you. That's all we need."

"You're making a mistake to walk away, Dean. This girl…she's good for you."

"Yeah, and I'm no good for her, no good for anyone."

"Dean…"

"Damn it, Sam, don't argue, okay? Grab my bag and get your shit packed up, alright? I'll text you when she's awake so we can give her some blood before we blow outta here."

Sam took in a deep breath, blew it out hotly, stomped to the bed where Dean's duffle was waiting, then stormed out the door.

Dean jumped slightly as it slammed behind his brother. He was doing the right thing for Ryan by walking away. He knew it.

* * *

She came to just as Dean was squirting the demon-spawn's blood into the cup. "Okay, one Campbell cure-all for the lady, and for the gent, a bottle of the cheapest ass whiskey I could find."

"Wh-what? Dean…what are you doing?"

He unlocked the padlock and removed the iron chains from around her waist and arms, then proceeded to hand her the cup. "Drink it."

She eyed it warily. "Why?"

He smirked. "Because I'm saving your ass again, babe. Didn't you get the memo?"

She blinked. "I'm confused."

"Drink."

She did as commanded and up-ended the mug, downing it in one. "What are you talking about? There is a cure for vampirism…?" That was all she managed and he quickly grabbed the trash can, holding it under her mouth as she began to vomit.

"Shhh," he muttered, holding back her hair as she started yacking her guts out. "It'll all be over soon," he comforted her as best he could. He remembered all too well how awful this cure was. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, hopefully soothingly as he whispered encouragement to her.

It felt like an eternity later to Dean when she finally stopped throwing up and curled into the fetal position on the floor of the bathroom, where they had moved during a moment's pause in her vomiting. Next time they used this cure, he was going to make damn sure the person was already _in _the bathroom.

"Come on," Dean muttered as he scooped her up and gently sat her on the chair. He felt her eyes on him as he grabbed the clothes he'd laid out for her from the table. "Come on, raise your arms, sweetcheeks. Let me change your shirt."

He could tell it took a concentrated effort for her to do as he directed. He slid her out of her dirty tee and into a clean one he'd picked up. He quickly helped her out of her panties and into the clean ones, mindful of the bandages covering the bites, then did the same with her pants. By the time they were done, she was wobbling on her feet in his arms. "I got 'cha," he murmured as he bent to pick her up again, this time, taking her to lie on the bed.

He had the bottle of Gatorade Sam had brought back and some of the saltine crackers waiting as well for when she was ready. Sam had also bitched at him about the other bottle of Gatorade he was supposed to down when the transfusion was over. Like he wanted some damn sports drink, but Sam was being stubborn. When wasn't Sam being stubborn? He flipped out his phone and texted his asshole brother to come back over.

"Wh-what the hell was that?" she managed.

He chuckled. "Apparently our family on our mother's side was all hunters. This was my great-something-or-other-grandfather's recipe. As long as you haven't fed from a human, we can turn you back into one. No vampy side-effects."

"I don't believe it," she muttered, sounding amazed even though she also sounded exhausted.

He shrugged. "It's true. I'm not only an advertisement, I'm also a user."

"You tried it, too?"

He nodded. "Unfortunately we had an issue a while back and I was turned. I killed every one of those fuckers in that den and then I was turned back."

"G-good to know," she whispered as she started shivering.

"Ah, yeah, side effects may include sweating, fever, chills, delusions, relapsed memories, guilt and anger."

She smiled slightly. "Well then, if that's all…" she blinked, yawned, and looked at the door just as Sam walked in.

"Hey, Ryan," Sam said softly with a smile. "You still living?"

She nodded tiredly. "Apparently still human, too, thanks to you guys."

"And soon you'll be topped off," Dean said as he slipped off his flannel shirt and sat next to her on the bed.

At her furrowed brows, Dean added, "You're running about a quart low. I'm O Negative. You don't have a problem with me giving you blood, do you? I swear, I'm clean. Well, no diseases anyway…" Clean wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe himself, but he was disease free. He might fuck around a lot, but he had been adamant about being clean for Lisa. He'd gotten tested shortly after he moved in with her, just to be safe. And since he hadn't been with anyone since her, he knew he was okay to be donating blood to Ryan.

She laid a hand on his. "I trust you with every part of me, Dean. You know that. I always have."

Their eyes met and he saw a million things in her eyes he wanted to question her about, but he didn't. He couldn't do this, couldn't go there. Not now. He tore his gaze away from hers and looked at Sam. "You good to go, Sammy?"

Sam held up a needle attached to some tubing. "Yep. Let's get you transfused."

They hadn't had to do it too often, but Dean was glad Sam was there. He was almost as good at drawing blood as a nurse, and Dean had teased him about it more than once. Sam stuck him first, kinking off the tubing with a pair of hemostats they'd stolen from a hospital once upon a time. He then moved over to Ryan's arm and repeated the gesture.

Ryan looked at him working with something akin to awe. "I wouldn't even know where to start," she muttered as Dean's blood began pumping into her.

"What happened, Ryan?" Sam inquired. "We found your purse and a pool of blood…it wasn't your blood, was it?"

She shook her head. "I grabbed my machete when I walked out to the vending machine, just in case. I wanted some soda and a snack. I heard a noise behind me, turned, and saw five of them. I took three of them down before they grabbed me and knocked me out. I woke up in that room alone. I managed to rip a metal table leg off one of the tables in the room…surprised the first guy that came in and beheaded him. I was trying to run out of there when they caught me and started using me as a snack. That was when the head vampire showed up, decided to change me. Apparently, he was going to originally use me as bait, but then, I guess he decided he liked me." She shivered. "Anyway, so, that's it."

His stomach knotted. The vamp _liked _her? What did that mean? He remembered where he'd treated those bite marks, up on her thighs… "The bite marks…" Dean started. "They…they didn't…he didn't do anything else, did he?"

She bit her lip and shook her head softly. "No. He was more interested in changing me than anything else."

"Good."

They were silent a few moments as Dean's blood continued to pump into her.

"You both okay?" Sam asked softly as he pulled the needle out of Dean's arm and kinked the line again.

Dean was starting to feel a little woozy, but he figured that was because he'd lost a little bit of blood himself as he'd been tossed about the warehouse. Of course, getting his head whacked on by a nest of vampires didn't help any, either. "Yeah, man, I'm fine," he growled. But what Dean really wanted to do, and seriously had to resist the urge, was to just lie down, spoon her, and go the fuck to sleep.

"Me too," Ryan said softly. Dean smiled despite his sudden exhaustion. She was almost asleep. She had managed to drink down about a quarter of the Gatorade, sipping it slowly through a straw Sam had also thought to get.

Sam quickly finished getting the needles out of their arms and bandaged them up. He then checked the various bandages all over her arms and legs covering the bite marks. Dean didn't take it personally. The wounds would probably need to be checked again for infection the next day. Unfortunately, Dean knew they couldn't stay.

Sam then bent down to give Ryan a hug. "You'll be good to go now, Ryan. Take care, okay?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Sam, really."

Dean didn't look, but heard the quiet _snick _of the door as Sam walked out before he leaned forward a little to look at her. "He's right, you know. You'll be alright."

"Really? It's done? Over? I'll be fine?"

He nodded again. "As fine as you ever were."

She snorted at that. "Gee, thanks."

He cleared his throat. "So, uh, I'm not so good at this whole Florence Nightingale thing…"

"You gotta take off, right?" she finished for him.

"You will be okay," he wasn't asking, he was telling her.

She nodded. "I always am."

He kissed her forehead. "Good. I'm glad. Take care of yourself."

"I will," she said thickly. "Thank you, Dean. You'll never know how much saving me this time means."

He smiled and then walked out of her life one more time. Sam was waiting, leaning against the Impala wearing the epic bitch face, but Dean ignored him as he tossed the keys his brother's way. He was in no shape to drive.

"Dean…"

He just glared at Sam. He was no good for this woman, no good for any woman. He had to cut his ties, cut his losses, before he developed feelings for her. It was better this way.

Wasn't it?

**An2: So...who's excited for season ten? Dude, I'm stoked. I've been watching interviews and reading spoilers as hard as I can! Don't worry...I won't share them with you, though! PM me if you'd like to talk about them sometime though!**


	6. One of These Nights

**DISCLAIMER: Don't you get it? Supernatural is NOT mine. However, Hope does belong to me. Literally. More explainations at the bottom.**

**TRIGGERS: Somewhat graphic description of rape and torture. You've been warned. **

**A/N: Wow! Thanks for the reviews, Emy! You rock! And thanks for the follows. Here's the next chapter. Longer note at the bottom...**

**NOTE: I just realized I forgot the year Dean was in Purgatory in my timeline. So I've gone back and revised this chapter. If this is your first time reading, you won't notice a difference. Sorry for the confusion!**

* * *

**THREE YEARS LATER** (Tag to episode 9.19 Alex Annie/Alexis Ann)

"Sure it'll work?" Jody asked them of the vampire cure.

"Well, speaking from experience, it'll be a rough couple of days, but…she should pull through. You sure you don't want us to stay?" Dean asked her.

"I'm good," came Jody's reply.

"After it's done, you know what you'll do with her?" Sam questioned.

Jody smiled. "I think I can figure something out." She paused, as if making up her mind about something. "Say, before you head out of town, if you don't have anything pressing, go to the diner. We got a new owner."

"What happened to old Bill?" Dean wanted to know.

"Old Bill retired to Florida with his remaining limbs. Diabetes is a bitch, apparently. New owner came in a little while ago, revamped the menu, pardon the pun. Got some stuff on there I'm sure you boys would like."

"I am hungry," Dean mused causing Sam to roll his eyes.

"I guess we could stop over…"

"Ask to speak to the owner, tell 'em Jody sent ya. They'll get you something decent before you hit the trail."

They both hugged her and got into the car. "Think she's gonna keep the kid?" Dean wondered quietly as he started the engine.

Sam nodded as he watched her head back into the cabin in the side mirror. "She's definitely keeping the kid."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "Good. Jody's been through hell and back. She needs something good in her life."

"Since when did you turn into Doctor Phil?"

"Shut up," was Dean's retort.

They drove back through town stopping in at "Billy's Breakfast Bonanza" and Dean grinned. "Glad to see they didn't change the name."

They walked in and sat down. "What can I get ya?" a bored looking teenager with a Mohawk asked as he dropped two menus on the table.

Dean's eyebrow rose as he took in the kid's obviously interesting fashion choices and the multi-colored…whatever on his head. "Uh, Jody sent us, said to talk to the owner."

The kid shot him a look, then yelled back to the kitchen, "Boss! Jody sent somebody!"

The Winchesters looked at one another and shrugged as they perused their menus. "Maybe she sends all her hunter friends through here?" Sam provided.

"How many hunter friends she got besides us?" Dean countered.

"She does have a life outside of us, Dean."

Dean grinned. "Maybe she's hooking up with the owner."

"Nah, I don't swing that way," the soft, southern voice said from behind him.

He whipped around and his eyes grew wide. "Ryan?" She looked…perfect. Her hair was up in a sloppy ponytail, wisps hanging down on either side, framing her face in a halo of fire, brown eyes sparkling with mischief, as usual, wearing a pair of comfy looking boots, worn jeans, and an old AC/DC tee shirt under a flannel over shirt, which was unbuttoned, but tied in a knot at her waist. She looked good enough to eat.

She smiled. "Hey, Winchesters! What are you two doing in my neck of the woods?"

Both men stood to hug her. She hugged Sam first, then it was Dean's turn. "Your neck of the woods? Since when?" Dean asked as she molded her body to his. Damn, did it feel good having her in his arms again.

She pulled away and looked up into his face for just a moment. He swore she could see right into his soul. It made him uncomfortable. "Since last year. What are ya'll doing up here?"

He was dimly aware she was still in his arms and he honestly didn't care. He wanted her there. She pulled away though, and he sat back down. "We just helped Jody with a…case."

She frowned and sat down next to Dean. He felt the thrill of her proximity go through him as their legs touched. He longed to run his hand up and down her leg, and just barely refrained as she began speaking. "Jody called me, told me to keep an eye on town. I guess I know why, now. Did she get back?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, she's at her family's cabin with…a guest."

Ryan's eyebrows rose. "Will I need to carry anything special with me when I go visit her at the cabin?" she asked warily.

Dean chuckled. "Not that kind of guest. She's recovering from the cure."

Ryan's eyes grew wide and she smirked. "And I take it we aren't talking about the 1970's rock band The Cure, are we?"

Dean turned just slightly and propped himself against the wall so he could look at her as he grinned. Shit, he had forgotten how much _fun _Ryan was to be around. She always caught references he didn't even think of. She had the best sense of humor. "Nah, afraid not. Let's just say the kid's a new member of the 'F.I.N.E.' club."

Ryan let out a sigh. "Yeah, we collect them, don't we? We either belong in the club, or help others who do."

"I think she'll keep this one. Teenage girl, no family…I think she and Jody bonded," Sam stated.

Ryan smiled and Dean couldn't help but notice how it made her whole face glow. "Good. I'm glad. Jody's so wonderful. I've tried to talk her into going out on dates, but, well, she said she had a bad experience…"

Dean snorted. "You could say that."

Ryan chuckled flatly. "Yeah, she told me about Mr. The King and their disaster. The sad thing is, I think she kinda liked him."

Dean's eyebrow shot up. "You met Crowley yet?"

She shivered, just slightly. "No, I, uh, I try to stay away from…" she cleared her throat. "Let's just say black eyes and I still don't mix."

"You haven't had any run-ins lately, have you?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "Nah, I've been demon free for a while now. I think you boys are keeping them busy. It's just the monsters I deal with on a semi-regular basis. Werewolves, witches, vampires," she paused, "Thanks for leaving me the recipe for the cure, by the way."

Dean caught Sam staring at him and he shrugged. So he'd left the recipe behind when he left. So what? He didn't want her vamped out next time she couldn't handle getting taken. It has still pissed him off that she'd managed to get caught. Or maybe it had something to do with the way he felt when she'd been taken. "Figured a fellow hunter might need it. You haven't had to use it, have you?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Actually, I haven't seen any vamps in a while now. Jody and I have taken care of a few things; a wraith in Montana, a shifter in North Dakota, not much. Last werewolf I saw was about a year or so ago."

"Impressive." He'd have to tease Jody about her hunting partner next time he saw her. But it was her tone when she mentioned the werewolf that gave him pause. "You get hurt lately?"

She shrugged. "Broken leg a while back. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Dean smiled, glad to see whatever freaked her out over that wolf clearly hadn't bothered her since. "Always the bad ass."

She chuckled slightly. "I have to be to keep up with The Winchester Boys. My rep's important to me." She paused and glanced up at the clock. "Say, you guys want something to eat, right? Dean, you still like a heart attack on a plate?"

He grinned. "You know it."

"Sam, you still a health nut?"

Sam shrugged. "You could say that."

"Mig!" she called to the cook. "Gimme a Double Cheeseburger, extra pig, side of cheese fries and a Veggie Deluxe with a side salad!"

"Onion?" Dean asked hopefully.

She smirked. "Mig! Hold the onion on the double!" She winked at him. "Onion breath is so out this season."

Sam chuckled from across the table as Dean pouted. He couldn't help it if he loved onions, nor could he help the fact they usually stayed with him a while.

"What about you? You hungry?" Dean wanted to know.

She smirked. "Oh, not for food."

Dean just smiled.

She went to the counter, going to check on a few customers as she went and he watched her with a half-smile on his face. She flitted about like a butterfly, stopping, resting a hand on an old man's shoulder, handing a little boy a napkin when he dribbled ketchup down his chin, she was…she was home, wasn't she? She'd found herself a place. He didn't know what to think of that. Home, for him, was the bunker. She had done what Ellen had done with the roadhouse, though, this place was definitely a step up from that.

"Dean, earth to Dean," he heard Sam say.

He blinked and turned back to his brother. "What?"

Sam shook his head. "I guess we're not getting back on the road tonight?"

Dean sat back and grinned. "I dunno. Guess we'll wait and see."

Sam just shot him a bored look. "I'll take that as a 'no'.

Dean's retort died on his lips as Ryan put down their drinks along with a glass of water for her. She slid easily down next to him again, just as the kid with the Mohawk brought their food back out. "Thanks, Bo," she said with a wink to the teen, who smiled at her.

"What's up with his hair?" Dean asked as he snagged a fry.

"He's…figuring out who he is. I don't care. He's sweet. And you will _not _make fun of him, Dean Winchester, even if he does look like his mama had an affair with a parrot, okay?"

Dean looked at her for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Okay, okay! I promise!"

Dean grinned at the giant cheeseburger and took a bite. "This is great," he murmured with his mouth half full.

Ryan giggled. "So glad I could be of service."

He swallowed down a large gulp of soda and asked, "So, how did you end up here of all places?"

She shrugged. "I've visited here a handful of times. When I felt like I was ready to put down some roots, I figured it was as good a place as any. So, I took some money out of my investments, bought this place, put my MBA to good use, and boom, that's it." She grinned. "Besides, I heard the local sheriff was a quasi-hunter. I figured if I wanted to get into trouble, being near her was an excellent place to do it."

"She's making a name for herself, isn't she?" Sam commented about Jody.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, she is. But she's good. I haven't enjoyed hunting with anyone quite like I've enjoyed hunting with Jody."

He realized she didn't mean it the way it sounded, but it hurt Dean's feelings a little bit. He had thought the two of them hunted well together, though, he had to admit, their two hunts hadn't exactly gone to plan, either of them. The first one, she'd saved his ass, the second time, he'd saved hers. Well, he supposed it could have been worse.

"You said you two have gone hunting, care to share some stories?" Sam asked with a grin as he chowed down on his veggie burger.

She shrugged and smiled. "Same old, same old, what about you?"

Sam shrugged. "Demons and Angels seem to be our specialties lately." He paused, took a sip of his drink, then asked, "Have you run into any angels?"

She thought a moment, then shook her head. "No. I stick to monsters, mostly."

"Angels are monsters, don't let them fool you," Dean spat.

Her eyebrow rose. "I'm sure they aren't all that way."

"Most of them," he countered.

She chuckled. "Yeah, well, the same could be said for humans."

"I've said it before and I say it again, Monsters and demons I get. People are crazy."

She laughed. "Ain't that the truth?"

"Speaking of monsters, and strange ones, at that, you ever heard of a Pishtaco?"

"A Peruvian Fatsucker? Sure."

Dean blinked. "You have?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. Haven't you?"

"Well, no, actually," Sam countered.

"Where did _you_ hear of one?" Dean wanted to know.

"When I was _in _Peru," she stated, and the "duh" was most definitely implied.

"When were you in Peru?"

She grinned. "Dean, what the hell did you think I did during those five years between college and New Orleans? I traveled and found out about monsters."

"You traveled internationally?" Sam inquired, interest clear in his voice.

She nodded. "Yeah, well, I traipsed around Mexico, South America, and Canada, in any case. Dude, you should see some of the weird shit they have in Canada. It's crazy. I hooked up with this one hunter, he showed me about a few of the local monsters. Fascinating, really."

"What else did you see?"

She thought a moment. "Well, I didn't _see _much, actually. I didn't get to do a lot of hunting, but I figured if I got the lore down, it would make things easier if I ran up on anything. To be honest, I'd found a nice little place in Brazil while I was down there, and a hunting partner, to boot. I actually hadn't planned on staying in the U.S. until after New Orleans."

That was news to Dean. To think, he could have missed ever seeing her again…it…hurt. "Why did you stay?" he managed.

She shrugged. "Just…it seemed like the thing to do."

Sam seemed oblivious to Dean's feelings at the moment and asked her. "So, since you've traveled so much, I bet you've got one hell of a hunter's journal."

At that, she smirked. "Sort of. I've gone digital. I've added it all into my computer program."

"You know a lot about computers?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, not really. I've got rudimentary skills at best, but I can work a mean Excel spreadsheet. I had a friend make me up something. I can get you a copy of it, if you like. It's the monsters, what kills them, their weaknesses…I put a lot of time and effort into it. Frank was fairly patient with me."

"Frank Devereaux?"

She nodded.

"He's dead," Dean told her, then could have kicked himself for his insensitivity, especially since Sam was currently glaring at him.

"I know. Well, I figured he was. Leviathans, right?"

Dean nodded.

She blew out a breath. "He was afraid that would happen. Paranoid bastard that he was."

They were all silent for a few moments before she asked, "Say, have you two heard from Garth lately? I've tried his number like, a million times, and can't get him."

Sam looked at him and Dean wiped his mouth. "Yeah, uh, about that…" he quickly and quietly told her about finding him in a werewolf pack in Wisconsin.

She blinked. "And you let him _live_?" she hissed.

"Whoa," Dean muttered. "Chill, Ryan. Yeah, he's wolfed out, but he's not evil. He's Garth for fuck's sake. Kid couldn't kill a human if he tried."

She shot him a look. "I half trained him, Dean, I know exactly what Garth is capable of. Are you _sure _he's okay?"

"We wouldn't have left him there if he wasn't," Sam said softly. "Look, trust us, don't trust us, whatever, but we did what was best. Occasionally, there _are _friendly monsters."

She snorted. "Next thing you'll be telling me is there are friendly demons, too."

At that, both men winced. They'd become…friend_ly _with a few demons along the way.

She sighed. "Alright, I'll trust you, but if I get the chance to talk to him, I'm going to beat his scrawny ass for not calling me and telling me what's up. I could have helped him, you know."

"There's no cure for lycanthropy, believe me, we've looked," Sam told her.

Dean cringed. It had been years, but he still remembered Sam having to put down the chick he liked because she'd gotten the taste for human blood when she wolfed out. _Just a long line in the Winchester failed relationships, _Dean thought sorrowfully. They had worse luck than the Cartwrights on Bonanza. Man, did he used to love that show. He remembered it was one of his Dad's favorite shows, too. He felt Ryan's hand on his leg all of a sudden and his eyes cut to her.

She gave a crooked smile as she answered Sam, "Well, I wouldn't have believed there was a cure for vampirism, either, and ya'll proved me wrong."

"You know, we could take a stab back through the Men of Letters files, see if anything pops up…" Sam began.

"Men of Letters?" Ryan asked as she began weaving a slow spiral of doodles on Dean's leg. He bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't say anything as he felt his response to her attention growing. _Fuck, Ryan, now? _He sent a glare in her direction, but her smile only grew as she listened to Sam tell about how they were legacies to the Men of Letters.

"That's so fascinating!" she enthused. Her hand traveled now, further on his leg, toward his crotch. His breath caught as her pinky brushed his erection and his hand clamped over hers.

She sat a little straighter, cleared her throat, and smirked, almost as if to say _game, set, match, Dean. _

_Oh, you're playing with fire, little girl, _he mused. _Just let me get you somewhere alone. I'll fuck you into next week. _

"You get a lot of hunters around here?" Sam was asking Ryan.

She shrugged. "We get a few coming through here, they stop and talk to Jody, talk to me, but most of them know I'm not in the game much anymore. I do offer suggestions, which is why they come, or call, I have quite a few calls now. Makes work complicated on occasion, I tell ya. Not many people study the lore as much as I do. I've got an extensive library back at my house in addition to my computer system. No one knows where I live, though. It isn't safe."

That piqued Dean's interest and his hand tightened on hers. She flipped hers so it was palm up and laced her fingers through his and squeezed it back. "Why?" he wanted to know.

Before she could answer, something must have caught her eye because she wrenched her hand from his grasp. He missed the warmth and strength of it immediately. He glanced to where Ryan was looking.

A little girl came trudging through the door, calling out a hello to a few of what Dean assumed were the regulars. She looked like any other kid, wearing jeans, a hoodie with some cartoon snowman on it saying she liked "warm hugs" and some kind of boots on her feet.

She all but dragged herself over to Ryan, dumped her backpack on the floor with a 'bang', pulled up a chair, and plopped herself down next to the woman at his side. "WHY do we have to do spelling tests? I mean, really? What exactly is the point of learning to spell? In this day and age, won't we just use spell-check on all our phones and stuff, anyway?!"

Ryan was holding in a chuckle, Dean could tell. And, he had to admit, it was funny seeing this little girl lament. He grew puzzled, however, as the little girl sighed before she laid her head on Ryan's shoulder and Ryan automatically began rubbing the girl's arm and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I take it the test didn't go well?"

"Eighty-five," the girl stated glumly. "And I studied _really hard_, honest I did."

"I believe you, Hope." Ryan soothed as she squeezed the little girl harder. "It's fine. Hey, that's not so bad."

"I know, I just…you said I had to get a ninety and I didn't and…"

Ryan cut her off. "We'll figure it out. Don't worry about that right now, okay? Just enjoy the rest of your day off school." She bit her lip, then said, "Uh, Hopey, I've, uh, I've got company."

Hope, who looked like she was around nine or ten, opened her eyes and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights as she eyed the two men. Something passed in the little girl's eyes, almost like recognition, but Dean knew that couldn't be it. He'd never seen the kid before, though she was cute. It occurred to him then, he didn't have a lot of experience being around little girls. Her jaw set, though, and she said coolly, "So I see. So, uh, can I snag a piece of pie, or…"

"Hope…" Ryan warned.

"I mean, after the day I've had, Mom, I really just need some pie and a tall glass of milk, okay?"

Dean's eyes grew wide. "Mom?"

Ryan closed her eyes, as if preparing for something, probably the ass chewing Dean was planning on doling out, which he was, because, _holy shit, she's a mom?_ She took a deep breath, blew it out, and put on a smile. "Yeah, Hope, go get some pie. Bring back another slice when you come, alright?"

Hope looked at the men. "Ya'll want some pie, too? Mom makes the best! We got cherry and peach and pecan and, you got any lemon meringue left?"

Ryan chuckled and tapped the girl's nose. "Yes, we have lemon, and I'm sure someone at this table would like a piece of pecan. Make it ala mode, will you?"

Hope stood, pushed the chair back where it belonged, gave her mom a mock salute, and did a little skip-dance routine to go behind the counter.

Ryan turned back to Dean, who eyed her. "Mom?"

Ryan shrugged. "Long story."

Dean glanced at his watch. "I'm pretty damn sure I got the time. I thought you couldn't have kids." He hated the way it came out so gruff, but, damn it, had she been lying to him this whole time? That was when another thought hit him…they never used protection. That kid…she wasn't his, was she?

"I can't, Dean," she stated, bringing him out of his downward spiral of thoughts. "I can't have kids. When those demons did…those things to me, when I was eleven, I had to have some important parts removed. My cousin…she has some…issues. She's not in the picture. So, Hope is mine, Hope, and her little brother."

"You got _two_ kids?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Understand why I don't hunt often anymore?" she deadpanned.

"Uh, yeah, but, wow…" he processed this for a moment before Hope came back bearing a tray loaded with goodies. She had obviously helped waitress there in the restaurant a few times. She picked up the pecan pie ala mode and sat it before Dean.

He looked at it, then looked at her and she grinned, looking just like Ryan in that instant. "You look like a pie kinda guy."

He smiled. "Yeah, I am."

She plopped down a fruit and yogurt thing in front of Sam. "And you look like you could use a parfait. Mom makes great healthy stuff, but pie is just awesome."

Sam chuckled. "Thanks."

Hope looked at them and then whispered something in Ryan's ear. Ryan smiled and nodded. "Yes, they're hunters."

Both the Winchester's eyes grew wide. "Does she know…?"

Ryan nodded sadly. "Yeah, I kind of had to. Longer story. One we can't tell in the café. Ya'll want to come for dinner tonight?"

"Oh! Can we have soup?" the little girl exclaimed.

Ryan shook her head. "I know you love Tomato Rice soup, Hopey, but I just made it on Monday. No, we can have something else."

"T-tomato rice soup?" Dean asked.

Ryan looked at him in surprise, then sadness. "Yeah, I, uh, your mom gave my mom the recipe. Said it had been in the family for years…"

It was in that instant he remembered Elaine Fawcett and that photo album she had shown him, the pictures of her and his mom…they had been such great friends. To think, Mary Winchester had shared the recipe with someone else, it warmed him slightly. "Yeah, it was. She always made it when I was sick."

"Mom does, too! Bobby had a cold earlier in the week, so we had soup and grilled cheese. We should have it more often. It's really awesome."

"Bobby?"

Ryan's face was grim. "Yeah, well, when he was born, we knew he had to be named Bobby. That was my only way to pay homage to one of the greatest men I ever knew."

Dean swallowed hard. Part of him wanted to be jealous of the dead man for being one of the greatest men she ever knew. It would have been nice to have that title. But he knew he was far from a great man, and certainly not one as good as Bobby. He rubbed his right arm self consciously. The Mark was just one of the things that proved the fact. "Yeah, it's a good name."

"You two weren't the only ones who lost Bobby," Ryan stated hotly. "Would it have killed you to think to include other people in his funeral?"

"He got a hunter's funeral, Ryan. Whaddya want me to say?" he growled at her. "And then I had to salt and burn his damn flask when he didn't pass over, okay?" He didn't even want to go into the fact Crowley had used Bobby and stole his soul, dragging it to hell.

If she was shocked at the revelation Bobby had become a ghost, she was either too angry or didn't care enough as she bit out, "It would be nice if you thought about someone else for a change…"

"SO," Hope said loudly to break up what Dean felt sure was going to be an argument between him and her mom, "Speaking of names," Hope took a bite of pie, (having plopped down next to Sam with a slice of Lemon Meringue) "What are your names? I haven't met all of my mom's friends, but I would remember meeting you guys."

He focused on the little girl instead of the infuriating woman at his side. "I'm Dean, this is my brother, Sam."

The little girl's brown eyes shot to his and they widened slightly. "The Winchesters?"

Dean chuckled and grinned. "Wow, Sammy. We even have a reputation with the elementary school crowd. Nice."

Hope blinked twice and then smiled. "Dude, you've got to tell me some stories!"

"Not here," Ryan said firmly. "You know the rules."

Hope sighed. "Fine. But tonight. I want details!"

Ryan giggled and shook her head. "Sorry, boys, I may have talked you two up a bit."

"Always glad to meet a fan," Dean chortled as he snagged a bite of pie. "Wow. Did you make this, Ryan?"

"Mom makes the best pies. I bet we could talk her into making another one for supper…"

Ryan's eyebrow shot up. "Don't you think one piece of pie in a day is enough?"

"But…Mom…we are going to have special guests for dinner…" Hope started ticking off reasons on her fingers. "One, it's pie. I love pie. Two, hellooooo, special guests? And three…well, I don't have a three, but come on!"

Ryan shot her daughter a look and sighed. "I guess I could make a chocolate pie…"

"Grandma Fawcett's chocolate pie?"

"Is there any other?"

"Nope," Hope stated adamantly. "Accept no substitutions."

Dean grinned. "I like this kid."

Hope beamed.

* * *

It was decided that the boys would just go home with them. Hope was hanging onto their every word, even though they weren't discussing hunting, and didn't really want Dean out of her sight for some reason. Well, hey, he was, after all, awesome, and kids liked him, why, he wasn't sure, but they did. He felt sure if he'd ask Sam, Sam would say something smart-ass about his maturity level, so he didn't ask Sam his opinion.

"You wanna ride with?" Ryan asked him as she made her way to a huge Ford SUV after giving Sam directions to their house.

"Dude, don't tell me you got rid of Demon!" Dean intoned.

"Of course not!" she gasped as if he had just asked her had she massacred her child. "Demon just isn't the best vehicle to haul a Girl Scout troop around in."

He looked at her in surprise. He'd figured she would have wanted nothing to do with Girl Scouts. It had been a meeting that she had been taken from, after all. But he turned to the little girl and asked, "You're a Girl Scout?"

The girl nodded. "I'm a Junior Girl Scout. Mom is helping us earn our Bronze Award in the fall."

That sounded like it was important, so Dean just grinned at her. "Right on. Good for you."

To Ryan, he said mockingly, "Girl Scouts? Really?"

She shot him a look. "The kid needs to be well rounded. She knows monsters are real, Dean. I had to balance it with something. I'm her troop co-leader."

Dean let out a snort. "Is there a merit badge for monster hunting?"

She punched him in the arm. "No, but my girls _are_ going to learn how to shoot and how to protect themselves. They've all mastered archery and they're all involved in some form of martial art. Hope is better at it than I am. And she can already wield a knife and naturally, she knows how to use a sawed off shotgun. Rifle too, for that matter."

"How did you manage to find a balance?" he wanted to know.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure I have, I just went with it."

"Well, it works. She seems…normal."

Ryan snorted. "Thanks. I think. Come on, let's go grab Bobby from day care and head to the house."

"Shotgun!" Hope called and Ryan shot her a look.

"Backseat," Ryan argued.

"Moooom!" the girl started whining again.

Ryan's jaw set. "What's the rule?"

Hope sighed. "Kids in the back, adults sit in the front, unless they're hurt or injured."

Ryan nodded. "Good girl." They all climbed into their seats and Dean noticed she waited until all the seatbelts were buckled before she started the car. Just then, Taylor Swift blasted from the speakers. Dean winced despite himself and Ryan chuckled as she punched a button and the CD came out into her waiting hand.

"Mom! I want AC/DC if we're listening to your music!"

Ryan flipped around and looked at her daughter. "What day is it?"

"Mom! It's not my fault Dean rode up front on a Thursday!"

Dean grinned. "What am I missing?"

Ryan sighed. "Driver picks music on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Shotgun calls music on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The weekends are mixed where we do rock, paper, scissors."

"Unless we're on a road trip. Then we take turns until Mom's too tired or if it's late at night. Then, to keep her awake, she picks the music and I listen to my iPod."

Dean looked at Ryan, who just shrugged. "It works out well. Bobby's not old enough to pick."

Who would have thought? She was kind of awesome at this whole mom thing. It made sense. A schedule for music. Huh. Interesting. "Okay…"

Ryan smiled at him. "So, unless you _want _the little girl in the back picking the music, and let me remind you, Tuesday was a "Frozen" marathon, I suggest you make a choice." And to prove her point, Ryan began in her honeyed alto, "Let it go, let it go…can't hold it back anymore. Let it go, let it go, turn my back and slam the door…"

He was caught between being horrified of the song and fascinated at Ryan's voice. He'd never heard her sing before with the exception of that one time she was in her car at college. Honestly, at the time, he wasn't even paying attention to her voice. She seemed to forget he was even there, "The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen. A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the queen. The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside. Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried…"

He watched her as her eyes closed and she got into it, "Don't let them in, don't let them see, be the good girl you always have to be. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. Well now they know…" She began singing the chorus for all she was worth, not even needing music as she continued and Hope chimed in.

He wondered if maybe the song spoke to her on another level as she sang the lyrics, "It's funny how some distance, makes everything seem small. And the fears that once controlled me, can't get to me at all. Up here in the cold, thin air, I finally can breathe, I know I left a life behind, but I'm too relieved to grieve…"

Damn, girl had some pipes on her. She could have been on American Idol or The Voice or something…

"Standing, frozen, in the life I've chosen. You won't find me. The past is all behind me. Buried in the snow…" She opened her eyes, saw him sitting there, stopped singing, and her face flamed in a blush as Hope continued singing, completely unperturbed.

Ryan cleared her throat. "Sorry. I, uh, I like the movie and we've watched it a million times and, hell, I like showtunes, okay?"

He grinned but remained silent.

"Gah, say something, alright?"

"What would you like for me to say? Instead of hunting, you should have become a singer? Because, damn. That was excellent."

She swallowed hard and gave him a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well, whatever. Unless you want me singing more of that, I think you need to make a decision." She lowered her voice to sound like Gozer the Gozerian as she growled, "Choose. Choose the destructor."

He and Hope both laughed. Ghostbusters had always been one of his favorite movies. No matter what line of work they were in. Sammy liked it too. "Alright."

"Dean! Dean! For the love of Christmas, _please _don't pick The Eagles! They're so lame! Pick AC/DC or Bon Jovi, oh! Or Styx! Did you know my camp name is 'Renegade'? Because I sang that song at camp last year, knocked it out of the park, thankyouverymuch. Oh, well, anyway, I guess Metallica works if you have to…Queen is preferable, but I'd wouldn't say 'no' to Zeppelin, either …"

Dean couldn't help the grin. The little girl sucked in a great lungful of air after that little outburst. "Girl's got some seriously good taste."

"You can thank me for her musical education," Ryan shot back.

"Hmmm…" Dean began, having fun teasing the little girl. She was practically vibrating with excitement. "So, you don't like The Eagles?"

"God," Ryan muttered. "You two. I swear. What do you ever have against The Eagles? They're nice and soothing and have just enough rock in them to be warranted as decent music."

Dean's eyebrow rose. "Just, Ryan, just enough rock. They, do, uh, they've got a few decent songs," he admitted. Though, he would never admit to owning the CD he listened to when he was by himself. The music was…mellow. Sometimes he chilled to it. He would just never let anyone know. Nor, would he admit, it always made him think of her…

"Thank you," she stated flatly. "I _know _they've got a few 'decent' songs." She glared at him.

"Yeah, but, Mom, they're so _lame_. They sound like they're a hundred years old."

"Says the girl that likes Big Time Rush," Ryan shot back.

"Carlos is my soul mate. He likes hockey _and _corn dogs!" Hope fired off. The adults chuckled and Dean heard, "At least I don't like Maroon 5 like _some _people in this car."

Ryan clutched her chest. "Hope! Don't give away state secrets! Dean can't know things like that! He'll use it against me!"

Dean snorted as Hope laughed. Yeah, he'd use that against her sometime. "Maroon 5? Really?"

She hung her head. "Well, it's some snappy music when I'm working out."

Dean cleared his throat as he imagined her in some little shorts and a sports bra. _Damn_.

"Mama likes Adam Levine's ink," Hope supplied.

The corner of Ryan's mouth lifted. "Yeah, well, I like tattoos. Don't hold it against me."

"He's too skinny," Hope stated.

Ryan rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he is. But that's not his fault, it's his body type."

"He wouldn't last five minutes against a vengeful spirit."

Ryan laughed out loud. "You know, most girls like a pretty face. My daughter looks for stamina out in the field."

Dean shrugged. "She's not wrong."

Ryan was still chuckling. "Good point." She eyed him. "Well, Shotgun? What's it going to be?" She opened the large console between them and he looked in to find about twenty CD's all neatly organized and in alphabetical order by artist.

He smirked and turned his body around to look at Hope in the backseat. "Hey, Hope, what do you think?"

"AC/DC. Back in Black. Song number two."

He chuckled. "That was easy." He picked up the CD, popped it out of its cardboard case (he always wondered why it was a cardboard foldout number) and slipped it in, flipping it to track two. Soon "Shoot to Thrill" fill the car.

"Yes!" Hope shouted before she began singing, knowing every single one of the lyrics, as well.

"You know," Ryan murmured, "You're now her best friend. And it's known in the parenting industry as 'bribery'."

Dean smiled softly, thinking of Ben. The kid loved AC/DC too. It hurt, but he was so glad he had walked away when he did. He rubbed his arm as he thought of The Mark he now bore. No, being a father definitely wasn't in the cards for him. "Yeah, well, gotta promote the kid's good musical tastes, right?"

Ryan just rolled her eyes, but she smiled.

"How old is Bobby?" he asked as they finally pulled out into traffic. He noticed Sammy had driven off a few minutes ago while they were still figuring out what music to listen to.

"We just celebrated his second birthday a few months ago."

"Cool. Little dude."

"Very. He was a preemie. The doc was worried he wouldn't make it."

"But he's stubborn, just like me!" Hope chimed in from the back seat.

Ryan nodded. "Indeed. It definitely runs in the family."

Ryan kept the music down low and Dean chuckled. "So, the kid doesn't share your taste in music?"

Ryan shrugged. "Hope loves every kind of music, much like myself. She's really into The Avengers, so when she found out Tony Stark likes AC/DC it increased their cool factor. She likes what other little girls her age like…"

"Except Justin Beiber!" Hope called from the back seat. "I can't stand that little…"

"Hope," Ryan warned. "Language."

Dean chuckled under his breath again. The two girls were something together. He could see their love for one another clearly in the little teasing and shared smiles already. He felt like an intruder and briefly wished he had ridden with Sammy but it didn't seem to bother the girls to have him there, in fact, they seemed to enjoy him being around. It was sending off warning bells in his head, but he quieted them. He was only here for the day. He had things to do. He couldn't stick around, couldn't hurt them that way. No, he'd just enjoy the day for what it was, enjoy the night for what it was going to be, and be gone first thing in the morning.

Ryan drove to a small building with a huge fenced in back yard that seemed bursting to the seams with outdoor toys. "Ya'll just wait. I'll go get him. Hopey…" she gave what sounded like a warning, causing Hope to sigh.

Dean watched her walk in and then turned to find brown eyes, the same color of Ryan's, staring at him. She had clearly unbuckled and now was leaning through the captain's chairs into the front seat. "Hi."

He smiled at her. "Hi."

"I like this song, too," she said as "Back in Black" played. He'd noticed Ryan had subconsciously flipped it from "Let Me Put My Love Into You" and he wondered if she did that because of the little girl staring at him and its lyrical content. It wasn't the most kid-friendly song he'd ever heard, though, did Hope even know what they were singing about? He'd bet so. Ryan would want her to know stuff. Or maybe not? Who knew. He was still flabbergasted by the fact she had kids.

He grinned and turned his attention back to the little girl. "Yeah, me too."

"So, uh, you gonna stay with us tonight?"

"I don't know, I mean, I'm sure there's a motel around here somewhere…" He wasn't quite sure how to handle being around this kid. She reminded him of Ryan, that much was for sure. She was a carbon copy of her mother, maybe not in looks, but in attitude, for sure. There was something else about her, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he genuinely liked the kid. She was cool, not a whiney little brat like some were.

"We've got a huge house. You should stay. Don't worry, it's safe. Devil's traps under every rug, iron bars on the upper windows, salt lines secure, plus Mom had some awesome iron fencing put up around the parameter. Nothing's getting in."

Now didn't _that _sound familiar? "You guys go on lockdown often?"

She shook her head. "No. Mom's taught me what to look out for, to just be cautious. She says nothing's coming to get us, we just have to be prepared in case something stumbles upon us." The little girl was talking so fast, she had to pause to take in a great lungful of air before she continued, "We also have a full training room in the basement where Mom works out with the dumbbells and treadmill and stuff, but we also have my archery gear and knifes that kind of thing down there. We've got a shooting range out in the back of the house, too. Mama had to get some kind of permit thing, I guess, but we're not in city limits, so Aunt Jody said it's cool."

"Aunt Jody?"

Hope nodded. "Mmmhmm, Sherriff Mills. She's awesome. She says she's gone with you on a hunt before. She says she fought zombies with you, too!"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, she did."

"She's terrific."

Dean was quiet for a moment. He didn't like the idea of this little girl learning to be a hunter, but, given Ryan's past, he could certainly understand why she was being so cautious with her own daughter. "You said you're prepared in case something stumbles up on you. Has that happened before?"

"Twice," she whispered and he could hear the fear in her voice, though she tried to mask it with indifference. "One time was when we'd just come back from vacation. Mama took me on a cruise when I was younger, before Bobby came in the picture. We got home and a Rawhead came after me, but I didn't know what it was at the time. I just remember something scary trying to grab me. Mom said it was a wrong place, wrong time thing. She went and hunted it down while I stayed with neighbors. She killed it, she said."

_The case with Sam, _he recalled Ryan talking about it, the case Sam didn't remember. He briefly wondered if Sam remembered it now, then figured it didn't really matter. Like Ryan had said, it was over and done with.

"And then…just before Bobby…there was a werewolf."

_So _that _was why Ryan reacted the way she did about the werewolf. The kid had been there_. "Did your mom take him out, too?"

She shook her head. "She was hurt, broke her leg. I had to…"

His eyebrow rose. _Holy shit. _"You killed a werewolf?"

She nodded without a shred of arrogance. "I'm a good shot. He was trying to hurt us. He would have killed us first. I did just like Mama said…a grouping of three shots to the heart."

_She bagged a werewolf? And saved herself and her mother? _She seemed so cool about it. Her confidence was astonishing. "You are definitely your mother's daughter," he commented.

She smiled. "Mom says I'm to be proud, but not boastful about it. It could have ended badly. I am _not _ready to hunt, but I am prepared in case something comes to hunt _me_. And that's okay, too."

Yeah, Ryan had this mother thing down. It was amazing. He never would have imagined it, but she knew what she was doing. Either that, or she was one hell of a 'fake it until you make it' kind of woman. Whichever way, he was impressed. "You're a brave little girl, Hope."

"Thank you," she said politely, softly. "It means a lot coming from you."

To be a legend the way she revered them…well, it made him feel kind of old. "Your mom talks about us a lot?"

She glanced out the window and didn't respond as she scrambled back to her seat to get belted back in as Ryan arrived with a little boy with sandy hair. "And this," Ryan said as she opened the door, "Is Bobby."

The kid was cute, but, well, he was a baby, two years old, so he didn't really look like anything other than a baby with crystal blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and a grin that matched his sister's. "Da!"

Ryan chuckled and strapped him in before handing him a cup of juice. "Yep, he's a handful, but he's a sweetie."

"Handful is right," Hope muttered. "He's always getting my stuff!"

"Well, maybe if you put your stuff where he couldn't reach it…"

"Mom! He's like a circus freak! He can climb walls! Little dude is Spiderman!"

Both the adults laughed at that and Ryan nodded as she climbed back behind the wheel. "It's true. He's a climber. Hope was always still and just did her thing. I turn my back for a second and boom, he's gone."

_Did she have both these kids from their births? _It appeared so. He thought of what it was like, being around a baby. Sammy was the last baby he'd been around for any length of time, save for the shifter child he and Sam had for a few days. That still bothered him, the monster came and got the kid. But he remembered Sam at around Bobby's age. "Sammy was the same way. My God, he almost gave me heart attacks on a daily basis because, well, we never stayed in the most kid friendly of places. It was exhausting." And once their dad had figured he could leave Dean in charge, it only got worse. Sure, they'd stayed with babysitters, he briefly remembered staying with one of his mom's other friends, she died somehow. He couldn't remember a lot of it, but it had been something supernatural, too, if memory served.

He watched her as she drove, her eyes going to the rear facing car seat and Hope in the little child mirror often. "You know, you're good at this mom thing," Dean commented.

She shrugged as she made a left-hand turn. "I've had to be."

He glanced at the side mirror through the window to see Hope was reading a book. "Your cousin just dumped them on you?"

"She's…not in a place to raise kids. She got messed up over a guy, Hope happened. Same thing happened again and Bobby arrived. I can't have kids, Dean. These two miracles are gifts from God to me. I don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

He stayed silent. He wasn't sure if miracles or gifts from God ever really happened, and certainly not after everything he'd seen in his thirty-five years of life, but he was happy for her, either way. "Same dad?"

She nodded as she made a turn onto a long dirt road. "Yeah. She's consistent, that much is for sure."

"And he..he won't like, sue for custody or anything?"

"No."

"You seem certain of that."

She sighed. "He's not in the place to raise a kid, either. They're both legally mine. Nothing is taking them from me. Ever. Come hell or high water, even if I have to make a deal with Crowley himself."

"You wouldn't."

She shrugged. "Dean, I've come to realize, the things in my heaven are what I'd go to hell for. I would do it in a skinny minute if it meant making life better for these kids. If it was between their happiness and mine? Damn straight."

He didn't know what to say to that. He'd been to hell for someone else, so had his father, so had Sam, basically. He guessed he could understand how she felt. "You really are good at this mom thing."

She smiled as they pulled up to the old farmhouse. "Thanks." She turned to Hope. "Homework?"

"Reading, as usual," she grumbled. "But other than that, just a math sheet."

"Well, that will take all of a minute."

"Darn right." Hope looked at Dean and grinned. "I've got the highest grades in my math and science classes."

"She takes after her father, clearly. She didn't get that crap from my family. We're inept at math. She's a tinker fairy, aren't you?"

Dean chuckled as Hope stuck her tongue out at her mom. Obviously they teased one another a lot. "I still say if you'd let me at that EMF meter…" Hope began.

Ryan's voice was firm. "No. I only have one and you aren't screwing with it, Hope. I let you take apart the radio because you were determined to make the speakers sound better."

"And I did!"

Ryan rolled her eyes as she pulled Bobby from the car seat. "Yeah, you did, but my point is, you can play with the radio, you can screw with the toaster, but my hunting gear is off limits until you really know what you're doing."

"But…Mom…"

"We've discussed it. It's finished."

Hope huffed and stomped up the steps of the porch.

Ryan sighed. "And I am actually trusted to raise children. Scary."

Dean chuckled and held out his hand for the baby. "Here. You got to unlock the door, right?"

She blinked in surprise. "I, uh, you sure?"

"How the hell you think Sammy survived? I raised him. I can handle holding your kid while you open your door, Ryan."

She seemed wary as she handed the little guy over to him. Dean took him and grinned. "Hey, Bobby. You know you got a big name to live up to, right?"

The baby touched his face and blew a raspberry, causing Dean to chuckle. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

They heard the Impala roaring up the driveway and the baby squealed in laughter and clapped his hands. "Kid's got good taste."

Ryan rolled her eyes as she unlocked the house and held the door open for him. She quickly bent down to pick up a stray tennis shoe that must have been Hope's, and a few toy trucks. "Excuse the mess…I wasn't planning on…"

"A booty call?" Dean provided.

She chuckled. "Yeah, that either. Jody could have called and warned me you guys were in the neighborhood…"

Dean wasn't quite sure why that sounded like she was less than thrilled by them being there. "Listen, Ryan, it's cool if we aren't welcome, I mean, we can split…"

"No! God, Dean, don't be a dick. I just wasn't expecting company. We've all been getting over colds and stuff so we watched movies and went to bed early last night, didn't even bother picking up the toys. Then, this morning, I had to hurry to get the pies made for work, so…" she trailed off and shrugged. "Ya'll go into the living room. Just plop him down on the floor. He'll find his baby Lego's to occupy him."

Dean did as she asked but the baby didn't want to be put down. "Da!" he said, patting Dean's face.

"I don't know what that means, buddy." He sat down on the couch with the baby and picked up some truck toy that made noise. "You wanna play with this?"

The baby just laid his head on Dean and popped his thumb in his mouth.

"Uh…okay." He sat back and got comfortable since obviously, the kid wasn't going anywhere. He heard the door to the house open and close. He wondered where Sam was, but he didn't really think too much about it as he took in his surroundings. The place was warm, homey, filled with pictures of the kids, pictures of Ryan with them, even one with Jody in it. But it was the picture of his mom and her mom, the same one he'd seen in her college apartment that made him smile. She still had it, and it still held a special place on her wall, the picture of them as babies with their moms. It warmed him. And so did the kid in his arms. He rubbed the baby's back a few times and the little boy sighed in contentment.

"He's still getting over a cold," Ryan said softly from the entryway a few minutes later. "He probably needs a nap. You mind just holding him another minute?"

He looked at the kid in his arms. "I guess not."

"He doesn't usually take to strangers. You must be calming to him, Dean."

Dean snorted. "That's a first."

"No, it isn't," Sam said from the door, having let himself in. "Dean's great with kids, actually. He just doesn't get to show it often."

Dean glared at his brother and Sam shrugged. "It's true."

"What took you so long?"

"Cas called." Dean looked at him expectantly but Sam shook his head. "No news on any front. He was just checking in on us."

Ryan smiled. "Cas, your angel friend, right?"

Dean just nodded. It wasn't a secret. Besides, Ryan had been friends with Bobby. Of course she knew who Cas was.

"Well, I guess I'll go get the ribs started. I know we aren't hungry, but they take forever. If you want to come in the kitchen, I've got beer."

"What do I do with the kid?" Dean asked. It felt…nice holding the baby. It was making him uncomfortable and he wasn't exactly sure why.

She smiled and must have sensed Dean's growing discomfort. She reached for the baby. "Come on, Bobby. You wanna take a nap? Monkey is waiting for you."

"Bu!" the baby yelled and Ryan's smile grew.

"Yep, Blue the Sock Monkey is waiting for you. I brought him in from the car. Let's go take a nap, alright?"

As if to prove her point, the little boy yawned and Ryan called out, "Hope! Show the boys to the kitchen!"

"We can find it. Let her finish her homework," Dean said as he stood. "It's all good. The house isn't that big, is it?"

Ryan shook her head. "Nah, you can't miss it. It's the room with the refrigerator in it."

He glared at her, but then smiled. She had the best damn sense of humor. "Smart ass."

Ryan stuck her tongue out at him, looking more like her daughter the longer Dean was around her, before she turned and walked out of the room.

Dean was smiling as he looked at Sam, who had walked over to the wall of pictures. He was stopped in front of the picture of Mary and Elaine. "Her mom and our mom…I forgot they knew each other."

Dean walked over to look at the picture. Both women looked so happy. "Yeah. Hard to believe, huh? Almost makes you wish they'd had more time to be friends. But it's nice, seeing pictures from that time. She's got an album if you wanna look at the pictures. I'm sure she still has it. She did in college."

He started to walk away when Sam asked, "Dude, what are you doing?"

Dean blinked. "What?"

Sam just shot him the bitch face. "What, what?"

Dean sent a glare his way and an annoyed look. He didn't appreciate the accusatory tone of his brother's voice. "She's feeding us ribs, man. Not proposing marriage."

Sam sighed. "You and I both know you're gonna stay the night. You sure you wanna get involved in this?"

He rolled his eyes. "Involved how? It's a fuck, Sam. Geez. She and I both know it's just something we get together and do. We've done this same dance a handful of times already. Trust me. She ain't looking for a commitment."

"She didn't have kids before, either."

Dean thought back to when she was high on vampire blood. "I'm not so sure about that. I think she was trying to tell me she had a kid that day we turned her back human after the vamp incident." The little girl was definitely an older version of the one he saw on Ryan's phone. It made sense, really. She had been trying to tell him to look in her bag and her phone had been in her bag.

"Well, either way, she's a mother now, Dean. We can't come in here screwing up her life."

"You think I don't know that?!" Dean all but shouted. "I _know_, Sam! I thought about bailing a few times now, alright? You think I don't remember how I fuck up people? I'm not an idiot. And I'm not staying. It's just for one night. I've got this thing on my arm and a bounty on my head. You think Abaddon or Metatron give a shit about if I hook up with her or not? No. They need to be worried about me killing their asses."

"Which is so easy since we have the blade," Sam stated.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Look, I know you don't like me dealing with Crowley on this…"

"I didn't like you going behind my back to get the fucking mark in the first place, Dean! It's the same thing over and over again! I'm sick of not being included in decisions that affect our partnership!"

Dean held in the wince, but just barely. Would it kill Sam to refer to him as his brother, at least once more? He accepted the fact he'd fucked Sam over. He'd accepted the fact he made a mistake with Gadreel, but he'd do it again. He needed Sammy. He admitted that to himself. He needed his brother with him, just like he'd said on that first hunt, when he'd asked Sam to go with him to help find their dad. He could go it alone, but he didn't want to. He was a selfish bastard. He knew that. But, damn it, Sam deserved to _live_, too. "I've done what I have to do," Dean finally stated.

"Obviously."

He blew out a breath. "Do you wanna leave? We can walk out right now."

"No, Dean, I don't. I like the kid, I like Ryan. I liked Ryan when we met up with her to work the vamp case. She's a great person. I just…" Sam sighed. "Never mind. So, did you find out whose kids these are? I mean, she can't have kids, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's her cousin. Man, she just uses Ryan and Ryan takes it 'cuz she can't have kids. It's sad, dude."

Sam shrugged. "I don't think so. Looks to me like Ryan's made the best of a bad situation for everyone."

Dean thought a moment. "Yeah, I guess. Just…it seems a shame. She's had to leave the life, man, not because she wanted to, but because she had to."

"Maybe she didn't want the life. Maybe she didn't have any other choice."

Dean was quiet before he asked, "Do any of us?"

"No."

"Exactly. So, how did she leave?"

"Perseverance," she stated as she walked back into the room. "I can't go hunting things and raise these kids. I had to choose. Something your father really needed to have done."

"I know you're not going to start that, Ryan," Dean stated hotly. John Winchester had his faults, but Dean never doubted he did what he thought was best, no matter how hard the lessons they might have had to learn.

She held up both hands. "I respect the hell out of your daddy, Dean. If he hadn't taught you boys how to handle things, I would be dead. I'm not saying that. I just think he could have found a better balance."

"And you're doing so well at it? Having the kid kill a werewolf?"

Ryan's eyes flashed. "Damn it, I _told_ her not to go off about that!"

"Hope killed a werewolf?" Sam asked, confused, but Dean and Ryan both ignored him.

"A kill is a kill, Ryan," Dean shot at her. "And at seven, eight years old, she _should _be proud."

"No, she shouldn't. I didn't ask her to do it, but there was no other choice. I don't want her having the bloodlust, Dean! She needs to be a little girl for fuck's sake!"

"I agree!"

They both stood there almost toe-to-toe, breathing hard and Sam interjected, "Uh, both of you need to chill out. She could hear you."

Ryan shook her head as if to clear it and blew out a breath. "Come on. Let's go grab a beer. We can chat while I cook."

* * *

Tempers cooled while she prepared dinner, making the pie, and mixing up some kind of special barbecue sauce. They were sitting at the kitchen table, joking and laughing when Hope came back downstairs a little while later singing Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name" at the top of her lungs, much to Dean's amusement, bringing a now alert and eager Bobby with her.

Hope seemed to catch herself when she breached the door, no doubt forgetting, if only for a moment, that they had houseguests and she blushed prettily, just like her mom. "Uh, sorry…but, hey, Bon Jovi rocks on occasion. I mean, his new stuff is crap, but the old stuff is awesome."

Dean grinned. "I agree wholeheartedly." He paused before adding, "You've got a decent singing voice, Hope."

She beamed with pride. "Thanks. I'm in the school choir. We just had a performance a few weeks ago. Aunt Jody came. It was cool."

"That's terrific," Sam said with a wink at her.

She handed the baby to Ryan, who plopped him down in his high chair with some kind of cookie, which he promptly started gnawing on. "So, how can I help, Mom?"

Ryan just smiled and waggled her eyebrows. "You want music?" Ryan asked slyly.

Hope grinned. "Mama, you know I _always _want music!"

Dean was confused for just a moment before Ryan and Hope started doing their thing in the kitchen, working in almost synchronized movements as they cooked, dancing around to the iPod dock Ryan had going to some of her favorite rock music which also happened to be some of Dean's favorites, too. He didn't even complain when the music changed to some pop songs that were mixed in.

Dinner was something fun, too as Hope regaled them with stories from elementary school. The kid was a storyteller and had a great sense of humor, too.

Sometime during the meal, Ryan had pulled out a camera to take pictures of them all and Sam had stolen it to take a few pictures of her with Dean when Dean had pulled her down into his lap as she was bending over to put the pie on the table. It was one of the best nights he'd had lately. All the crap that had gone down recently had made him forget there could be fun in life and if only for a moment, he savored it.

He grinned at the woman in his lap before he looked at her daughter. "Hope, your mom is a hero, did you know that?"

"Of course," she stated simply. "She's a hunter, just like you and Sam."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, she is, but did you know she saved my life?"

Hope gasped. "No! When?"

Ryan smiled at him. He had never told anyone this story, mainly because he'd made a rookie mistake, getting caught in the first place. Sam didn't even know what went down in New Orleans. He turned back to the kid. "Yep, she sure did. There were four witches, a coven, who were hurting tourists. I went to investigate the building they were using as their front. I found all their hoo-doo sh…a…crap, and they snuck up on me, cracked me over the head."

"Only one of them snuck up on you Dean."

"How do you know?"

"I was there, doofus, remember? I had crept into that same building. I saw him crack you over the head. I slipped out before he could see me."

"You could have taken care of him then and there, Ryan."

She grinned. "Yeah, but if I hadn't, we wouldn't have known how to find the other three, now, would we?"

She had a point, he hated to admit. "Anyway, so, he manages to lug me out and throw me into the car…"

"I still have no idea how. He must have used some kind of spell to help transport you."

"What are you trying to say, Ryan?" He shot her a raised eyebrow.

"You're a big boy, Dean. You outweighed that little cretin by at least fifty pounds and three inches, easy."

"You could probably carry me, Ryan."

She smirked. "Yeah, but I'm a trained hunter. He was a weak witch."

"What happened next?!" Hope was enthralled in the story, Dean could tell.

"Well, I came to and tried to worm my way out of the ropes. They had me tied to a steel girder. Another of the witches was there arguing with him and the two men didn't know I had woken up. Just then, I heard your mom sneak up behind me, whispering for me to be quiet…"

"Which didn't work," she admonished. "When someone tells you to be quiet, you do it, Dean."

"I was surprised. The last time I saw you, you were a college student, not a huntress supreme."

She rolled her eyes. "Still. It's just good practice to be quiet."

"He doesn't know how to shut up," Sam offered.

"You shut up," Dean shot back at him flatly.

"So, what happened then?" Hope asked, bringing them back to the story.

"Your mom…Hope, you should've seen her. It was a thing of beauty. After she back-talked that little wimpy witch and his cohort, he tried to attack her. She flipped him over her and stabbed him with her knife. It was awesome to watch, I tell ya."

"Did you really, Mama?"

Ryan nodded. "I did indeed, butterbean."

"Wow. And what about the other guy?"

"Well, I took care of him," Dean began proudly.

"After he beat Dean around a bit. You're lucky you didn't get a concussion."

"You're lucky I didn't get a concussion," he shot back with a smirk.

She chuckled. "Yeah, you're right." She turned to Hope. "Dean got the guy in a headlock and I tossed him my knife. He finished off that guy. After that, we found the other two witches who really just kinda went along with the two leaders. They went to jail, human jail, because they had done some things other than witchcraft."

"Wow. Awesome! Mom! Why didn't you tell me that's what happened?"

Ryan shrugged. "I told you I hunted witches in New Orleans with Dean. I just figured if you wanted details, they would be better served coming from a master storyteller."

"No kidding. That's awesome!"

"We were lucky," Dean told her solemnly. "Your mom almost bit the dust thanks to a hex bag. Witches aren't something to mess with. The spells and stuff they, as well as hunters use, aren't things to play around with. I should know. I've been on the bad end of a few of them. So has Sam."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Nasty business, witches."

"At least they weren't the Wicked Witch," Dean stated as he remembered. He'd rather deal with regular old witches. They were human, after all. He still wasn't sure _what _that thing had been.

"As in…Wicked Witch? Like, the _real _Wicked Witch?" Ryan asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, we, uh, we met Dorothy, too."

"Seriously? You're kidding."

Sam nodded his head. "Our friend Charlie is hunting with her in Oz right now."

"Oz is _real_?" Hope gasped. "I love those stories!"

"They aren't quite like that in real life, either," Sam told her. "There are some bad things out there."

"What's next? You gonna tell me Narnia's real, too?" Ryan asked.

"God, I hope not," Dean deadpanned. "I don't want to tangle with that white witch. She freaked me out as a kid."

Ryan looked at him and laughed.

As they continued to talk and clean up the dishes, Hope and Ryan continuing their little dance routine as they put away everything and got the kitchen clean once more, Hope tried to talk them into a game.

"I am not playing Texas Hold 'Em with you again, Hope. You're almost better than I am and I only have a twenty dollar bill in my pocket," Ryan told her daughter.

Hope smirked. "Dude, Mom, I can't help it that I'm better at it than you are."

"Watch the smart mouth, kid," Ryan warned her, but Dean could tell it was said with love. "Them's fightin' words."

Hope's eyebrow shot up. "I can take ya."

Ryan shook her head. "Don't I know it." To the boys, Ryan said, "Hope is a card sharp. I don't know how, but she can pick up a game and within two games, she's figured out how to win. I think she's just got some of the best luck of anyone I know."

Dean grinned. "You didn't swallow any horseshoes, did you, Hopey?"

She giggled. "Mama calls me Hopey. But, no, I haven't even been near a horse in forever. Not since we went horseback riding with the girl scouts when I was a Brownie."

Ryan smiled at her daughter. "Why don't you go grab something else to play."

"So we _can _play a game?!"

"_One,_" Ryan told her. "If the Winchester boys are down with it."

Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged. "Whatever."

"Great!" Hope yelled as she ran out of the room.

Ryan sighed. "Some days, I don't have the energy."

Dean chuckled. "You know, I don't know if I ever thanked you for teaching me how to play poker. It came in handy down the road."

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair as she bent to grab a pot from the table. "No problem."

Hope came back only moments later with Jenga, which was apparently her new favorite game, and it turned into a tournament, which Ryan won. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and said, "Well, it's time for all good little monsters to go to bed." She gestured to the baby, who was nodding off chewing on a squeaky fire truck. "Bad ones, too."

"Moooooom," Hope whined. "I don't want to go to bed. Dean promised me a story about a Wendigo."

Dean chuckled. "I did, didn't I? You want it as a bedtime story?"

Her eyes grew wide and she nodded furiously.

He laughed. "Fine. Go do what your mom says, get ready, I'll come up and tell it to you."

"Really? Thanks!" She was up like a flash, hugging Sam so hard, she almost knocked him out of his chair before running up the stairs and tromping about like crazy above their heads.

"You've created a monster, Dean," Ryan commented as she wiped the baby's hands. "Yuck. You need a bath, little dude." He definitely did. The kid was covered in barbecue sauce, mashed potatoes, and breadcrumbs, not to mention half of Dean's first piece of pie, which he'd snuck the little boy on his fork.

Ryan turned to Sam. "I'm going to get him ready for bed. Just go sit and watch some TV while I'm upstairs and Dean is scaring the crap out of my daughter."

Sam laughed. "I think I'll just head back to the motel. You're staying tonight, aren't you, Dean?"

Dean looked at Ryan. "Am I?"

She smiled softly and touched his cheek tenderly, rubbing the scruff there and his eyes traveled to hers, causing him to be spellbound. She was so beautiful. "You know I've never been able to say 'no' to that pretty face, Winchester."

"I'll come back in the morning and bring doughnuts," Sam offered.

The spell was broken as Ryan turned to Sam with another smile. "Oh, Hope will be calling you 'Uncle Sammy' if you did that."

"Hey, what am I? Chopped Liver? I'm going to be telling her an awesome story," Dean put in.

"And if you scare her too badly, you'll be the one dealing with her nightmare. Tonight. By yourself. Instead of in bed. With me."

He opened his mouth and closed it. "Duly noted, El Capitan."

She giggled and walked over to give Sam a hug goodnight before taking the baby out of his high chair. "Lock up, Dean," she called as she walked away and Dean couldn't help it as his eyes lingered on her ass until she was out of view.

"I hope like hell you know what you're doing," Sam muttered as he stood and slid his jacket back on.

"Dude, chill. It's no different than any other girl in any other town on any other night."

Sam just stared at him disbelieving. "I don't know what's worse, the fact that you just said that, or the fact you actually believe it."

Dean rubbed his arm where the mark lay beneath his sleeves. "With this, and that damn blade, we've got work to do. I'm not about to shirk my duties over some chick. You want me to leave, we leave right now."

"Damn it, Dean, that's not my point and you know it. I just…" Sam blew out a breath. "Never mind. It's not like you listen to a damn thing I say anyway. I'll see you in the morning, _partner_."

Dean's eyes closed as the flash of pain radiated through him. Partner. Not brother. Twice in one day, too. Just when he thought Sam was going to be able to…they'd seemed so back to normal with Ryan at dinner, he'd almost hoped…but, no, Sam wouldn't forget, would he? He couldn't forget that Sam would never forgive him for Gadreel. He'd made the best out of an impossible situation. It was the right choice, and even though everything got fucked sideways, he would still make it, just like this damn mark.

It gave him almost a pang as he thought about it; the thrill of chopping off that asshole, Culberth Sinclair's head with the blade, letting the blade claim him as its owner. For just a moment, everything in the world was perfect and clear. But then Crowley had to fuck them over and steal it. Well, hell, if he wanted Abaddon dead, he'd have to pony up the blade eventually. But until then, the reminder of it almost gave Dean a feeling of need, of desire. And then that feeling transferred to another desire. He needed Ryan. Needed her under him. Needed to be _in _her. Now.

He marched to the front door, flipped the lock, checked to make sure everything was secure downstairs, then walked up the steps, listening. He could hear soft music playing in the room to his left, but just in front of him, he heard Ryan's soft voice cooing to the baby.

His eyes narrowed as he made his way to her as if in a trance. He threw the door open and there she stood, putting a fresh diaper on the kid. He went to her and spun her around before kissing her passionately.

She resisted for just a moment before she melted into his embrace. He felt her go all but boneless as his hands roamed over her. "Need you," he muttered. "Now."

"Dean…" she started softly, but then his lips traveled to her neck where he bit her and she moaned. "Oh, God…Dean, stop."

"No."

"Dean…"

"No."

He pushed her into the changing table and growled as his hands continued their exploration of her until she physically pushed him away. "I said no, Dean."

He stood there, blinking a moment, getting his bearings. He shook his head and looked at her. "What?"

Concern lit her features. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to tell the kid a story. Don't worry, I won't scare the pants off her…"

Ryan just looked at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine."

She eyed him warily. "Christo."

His eyebrows knit. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Just…got a little spooked. Sorry. Go, tell her a story. I'll be in my room."

He glanced at her, then around her to see the little boy sitting up on the changing table with his thumb already in his mouth. "Night, bud."

"Da!" the boy agreed cheerfully, causing Ryan to smile uncertainly.

Dean turned and walked back to the room with the soft music playing. He opened the door to find Hope reading in bed, waiting. The music was a soft instrumental song he wasn't sure he recognized. "What song is this?"

"Listen," she said softly as she hummed.

He waited and then asked, "Is that 'Carry On My Wayward Son'?"

She nodded. "Mom found a whole bunch of awesome rock songs done in lullaby versions. This is one of her favorite songs even though it makes her cry."

"Yeah, she's got the words tattooed on her arms."

She nodded. "Yep. She says it helps her to remember that even though life sucks sometimes, it's worth it." She paused. "She said I'm worth it. Now Bobby, too. She says if she had given up before she met you again in college, we wouldn't be here and that makes her sad sometimes."

"You know," Dean began as he sat next to her on the bed, "I think the world of your mom. Our moms knew each other. Did you know that?"

She nodded. "Mom says that your mom and her mom wanted you two to grow up and get married because then they would be best friends and inlaws." She blushed. "I think it would have been kinda cool."

Dean smiled slightly at the kid. "Yeah, well, life happens to us all. It doesn't turn out the way we want it to, but it turns out like it's supposed to."

She turned her head to the side, narrowing her eyes, thinking. "You really believe that?"

He snorted. "I don't know, kid. Probably not."

She put the book down and snuggled under her covers. "I don't wanna hear about the Wendigo."

"Good, because your mom seems to think it would give you nightmares."

At that, the kid snorted. "Yeah, well, okay. If that's what she wants to think, that's cool. But no, I wanna hear a story about you."

He was more than a little surprised. "Me?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Tell me your best memory."

He eyed her warily. "Why?"

"Because, that's how you really get to know someone."

He thought a moment. Good memories were thin across the wire for him. But he did remember one. "Okay, so, one time, when I was a teenager, me and Sammy got a ton of fireworks…"

* * *

It was almost an hour later when he stepped back out of Hope's room. The kid had gotten almost every single good memory out of him and, in turn, he made her tell him some of her best memories, all of which centered on Ryan and her, together. Simple things, the cruise they had taken together to the Caribbean where they swam with the dolphins and stingrays, going to an amusement park, Girl Scout campouts, swimming, apparently the girl was also on some swim team and already had a few junior medals to her name.

She started getting sleepy after a while and she asked for a goodnight hug before he left. She pulled him in close and whispered, "Thank you," and kissed his cheek.

He smiled at her. "Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight. It's nice to take a night off from hunting sometimes."

"You should do it more often, have fun, I mean. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Dean too, probably."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you've got a point there." But there weren't nights off, not anymore. He felt old. This thing with Abaddon and Metatron, it was wearing him down. Demons, Angels, he just wanted to go back to the way things were, ganking monsters was easy. Dealing with all this other crap was exhausting. And, too, it made him sad, reflecting all their good times. It made him realize how bad the relationship between him and Sammy really was, but at the same time, he felt immense relief at the fact that he _did _have good memories. Those, he would cherish until his dying day. He needed to appreciate each one a little bit more.

With a full brain and an even fuller heart, he made his way to Ryan's room. _Dude, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be doing this…_he was too emotionally exposed; his nerve endings were too fried. He was going to regret tonight, hell, he already was. But there was no turning back now. He knocked gently before opening her door.

She, like her daughter, was reading in bed and she sat the book down when he stepped inside and shut the door, flipping the lock. "She asleep?"

"Almost." He came over and stood shyly by the bedside, causing her to grin.

"Please don't tell me this is going to be awkward."

"I don't do awkward sex scenes," he muttered as he toed off his boots and sat next to her on the bed.

"Dean, what's going on with you?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're…not you."

His left hand instinctively went to his right forearm.

"What?" she asked.

"I, uh, I had to do something. There's some bad shit brewing downstairs, so I had to make sure I could handle the situation."

She eyed him warily. "What did you do?"

He pulled his shirt sleeve up and showed her the mark. "It's the mark of Cain."

Her eyes grew wider. "Cain? As in, like, Bible Cain?"

He nodded.

"Oh, Dean…"

"I don't regret it," he started stiffly.

She sucked in a breath and blew it out before bending and kissing his arm, right over the mark. "You're an idiot," she murmured into his skin.

"Not the first time I've been called that."

Her eyes shot to his. She looked at him a long moment and he began to wonder if he was going to have to walk back to town before she leaned forward to kiss his lips. "I need you," was all she said.

He grasped her ankle and pulled her flat on the bed, covering her. "You got me, babe."

She shorted. "Okay, Sonny."

"Not fucking funny," he growled as his hands moved to tickle her.

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!"

He stopped and grinned down at her. "Well, Cher was hot once upon a time, but I don't think I could rock that porn 'shache could I?"

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him with one eye. "I don't know, Dean. I've seen you with long hair, if you could look halfway decent with that mop on your head, then there's a chance even the porn 'stache would look good on you."

He felt his face heat. It had been a year of insanity and just a hint of rebellion that led him to grow his hair out in the first place, back in the day. What was funny was now Sammy's hair was longer than his had been. And looked just as ridiculous, but he didn't tease his brother too much. It was pointless. Sam liked it, so that was that. Now it seemed as though they wouldn't get past this to tease one another ever again.

Ryan reached up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. "It's been a while, Dean."

"How long?" he asked.

"A few months," she managed.

His eyes narrowed and he wasn't sure why, but he suddenly saw red. He trapped her arms above her head and looked down at her. "No other man better not have touched what is mine."

"I don't recall belonging to you, Dean Winchester," she stated defiantly.

"You. Are. Mine." he growled as he bent his head to bite her neck again. "You're mine and no other man had better fucking touch you, damn it."

He felt her tense for a half a second before she moved under him, somehow managing to flip them so she was on top. She stared down at him. "Is that a fucking fact? Well then, Dean, I suggest you fucking show me. Mark me as yours, damn it."

He let out a carnal snarl and sat up and ripped her top off of her before fisting both her breasts and she moaned as she dipped her mouth to his, biting his lip in the process.

"Fuck," he muttered as she began kissing down his face, down his neck, nipping at the skin there.

"Shit, Ryan," he murmured as her hands started pulling at his shirts, her strength surprising him slightly as she ripped his undershirt.

"Need you," she repeated as her hands dove to the waistband of his jeans now that his naked chest was rubbing against hers. He could feel her pert nipples teasing his own and his hips jerked of their own volition as she unzipped his pants, tugging them just enough to expose him to the cool air of the room.

"Yessss," she murmured as she slithered down him to envelop him in her mouth.

His body fell back, head hitting the wooden headboard as she sucked him in. "Damn, woman, you're going to kill me."

She nipped his tip just slightly and grinned as she slithered back up him. "Oh, I don't want you dead, Dean. I want you naked and wanting."

He flipped them and grasped both of her hands above her head again. "Oh, no, sweetheart. You're the one that will be naked and wanting."

Her eyes blazed. "Challenge fucking accepted," she murmured.

He stood in a shot, shucking out of his jeans and he watched as she sinuously slid her pajama pants and panties down her legs. She stretched wantonly and smirked up at him. "Well? I'm waiting."

He stopped and just looked at her for another moment. Her body looked different than the last time he'd seen her, softer, just a bit rounder, but no less beautiful than when he was with her last. Of course, she wasn't running for her life as often now, so that explained away the fact she wasn't all muscle and scars. He actually liked her better this way, the slight give of her flesh under his hands, the added curves that flowed down her sides. She was perfect. Venus in the flesh if he'd ever seen it.

He noticed some ink down around her ankle and saw "Hope" and "Bobby" written in fancy script with their birthdates along with some fancy swirls and flowers so that it looked like an anklet on her.

"You are the most magnificent creature I've ever seen," he murmured.

She smirked back up at him. "Yeah, yeah, flowery words, blah-blah-blah. Come fuck me, Winchester."

His eyebrow rose as he dipped down to her. "Your wish," he muttered as he teased her with a hip roll, causing her to whimper. "My command," he finished as he thrust.

* * *

It was an hour or so later as he made his way back from the bathroom. She was sleeping peacefully, curled into a ball on her side, facing his side of the bed. He slid under the covers and just looked at her. She truly was beautiful, inside and out. To think, she'd gone through as much shit as she had, and yet, she remained this awesome person, was astounding to him.

Suddenly, she woke and her eyes lit on his. She smiled. "Are you…watching me sleep?"

He chuckled. "I could say 'no' but I'd be lying. I got up to take a piss and now I'm admiring your beauty."

She snorted. "Alright then."

He slithered down a bit so he was just barely propped against the headboard and her head moved to lie on his chest. She began drawing invisible doodles against the skin of his stomach.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

She looked up at him and kissed him tenderly. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Life."

He blew out a breath. "That's…that's a lot of thoughts for so late at night."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so. I just…when I think about where my life has taken me…it's kinda unbelievable, you know?"

He nodded as he thought of the mark on his arm. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"You know, I was just thinking a few days ago about that night in college."

He smiled softly as he remembered. "Yeah, that was something."

She looked at him again. "It was a miracle I let you touch me, Dean. I don't know why I did."

"A moment of temporary insanity?" he offered.

She smiled. "Yeah, something like that." She laid her head back down on his chest and resumed drawing with her finger. "Do you…do you know what they did to me? That night?"

He shook his head. "No. You never told me and I never asked. I had an idea, though."

"D-Do you want to know?"

He didn't, at least, he didn't think he did, but he had the feeling after twenty-four years, maybe she needed to tell someone, and he was the one with the listening ears on. "If you feel like telling me," he finally said.

She sucked in a breath. "We were coming out of the rec center. That's where we had our meetings. Me and Mrs. McGivney were getting into her little car, I think it was a Toyota something or other. Suddenly, a couple of guys jumped out of the shadows. They threw a bag over my head. I heard…I heard awful sounds and I knew they were killing her. It was a wet, sticky sound and gagging. Odd, now that I think about it, I know they were slitting her throat. I heard one of them talking. It sounded like he was on the phone, something about finishing a job or something. To this day, I have no idea what they were talking about, or who they were talking to. But then I was picked up and thrown into the trunk of a car."

She was silent for a moment and he held his breath, waiting for her to continue, yet, dreading it.

"Eventually, we stopped, and I was pulled out and taken into a building. An old barn. I was stood up and the bag removed. I saw men that were familiar. The butcher my dad always talked to from the grocery store was the one in front, and two others, one of the guys from the post office, and another, from the police, were behind him. Mr. Marcus, well, that was the meatsuit the demon was riding, slapped me, knocked me to the ground. His eyes…they flashed black, and I remember being just terrified of that. He looked like an alien or something with those black eyes…"

Dean's right hand began soothing and rubbing her back. He squeezed her to him as she continued her tale. "They didn't even rip off my clothes. No, it was worse. They undressed me like they were unwrapping a present. The other two held me down as Mr. Marcus," she shook her head. "No. Raeburn. He said his name was Raeburn; that was the demon in charge. He undressed me and I remembered being so ashamed. I wasn't pretty like the other girls were. I was still flat-chested and had a little tummy pooch, nothing special in the least."

That hadn't been true. She had been beautiful from the moment he saw her, and he wanted to tell her, but he knew better than to interrupt her. She had things she needed to say, obviously.

She took in a stuttering breath. "They…they took turns with me. Even though Raeburn was in charge, he let the other two have a turn. But by then he was ready for another round. I remembered it hurting so much in the beginning, but then it all kinda went numb and I felt relief. It didn't hurt so bad then, so I relaxed. I should have known that was when they'd pull out the knives."

He tensed. He couldn't imagine her tale getting any worse, but he had the feeling it was about to.

"At first, it was little cuts, just enough to spill blood and then they would clot. Hundreds of them, thousands, all over my body. Some left scars, though, some were just scratches that faded away. But then…then he took that knife." She was quiet for a moment before she began again. "You know, it was nothing special, just a hunting knife. I have one, you have one, hell, any hunter, no matter if they hunt monsters or deer, has one. Just a simple knife. But it hurts. It hurts so badly when it's thrust into you."

He felt physically ill and wished she would stop, but he couldn't ask her to. She needed this, he could tell.

"That was when they heard a noise outside. The other two, I still don't know their names, they went outside to check it out. I was almost passed out by then I guess, from blood loss or trauma or shock, I don't know. Then, all of a sudden, I saw thick black smoke coming out of Mr. Marcus and it poured into me, then I wasn't out of it anymore. I felt…it was terrible. It was inside me…and it was a hundred times worse than the rapes."

He winced. "Did he…were you awake?"

"Oh, I remember everything," she stated quickly. "The police raced in and shot Mr. Marcus, killed him. He didn't…he was innocent. It was that _thing _that made him do all those things to me, to the other girls. Looking back, I hate it for him. Isn't that funny? I feel sorry for him. He didn't know. How could he? I remember it dressing me and talking like me and the drive back to my house. I tried to shout that I was stuck inside my body with that thing but it wouldn't let me talk, just slapped me around mentally. It was awful."

She shivered and he knew what was coming next. "I remember the trip back to the house. He was…he was vibrating with excitement inside my skin. He wasn't done with me, I could tell, and he was enjoying mocking me in my head. We walked up the steps and they knocked on the door. I heard Mom screaming in relief, felt her wrap me in a hug, I remembered seeing you and I could see the wariness on your face. You knew, didn't you? That something wasn't right."

He debated whether she wanted an answer from him or not, but then she continued. "I followed her down the hall…Mom got the tub ready for me. She was bent over testing the water when I saw my hand come out and stab her with the knife, the one that had my dried blood on it. Raeburn must have hidden it under my skirt, I guess. I don't remember. I couldn't really feel any sensations, just see things out of my eyes and know it wasn't right…" she was silent a moment before she looked up at him. "It whispered to her. It said, 'This is what happens to friends of Mary Winchester'. Do you know what that means?"

Dean's eyes grew wide. He'd never made the connection. "All…all Mom's friends were killed because of what the yellow eyed demon did to Sam. He, uh…"

She held a finger up to his lips. "I know about the apocalypse, Dean. It's okay."

"It's not okay, Ryan."

She shook her head and laid it back on his chest. "It doesn't matter now, Dean. It's over and done with, has been for years."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

She sighed. "Me too." She looked up at him again. "I'm sorry I burdened you with this. I hadn't meant to…"

He silenced her with a gentle kiss. "It's okay, Ryan. You've never told anyone this before, have you?"

She shook her head. "Bits and pieces. No one knows everything, well, except for you."

"I'm glad it was me," he told her truthfully. He couldn't imagine her telling anyone else. It would…hurt him, if she had shared this with anyone else.

"Dean…I need to tell you something."

His eyebrow rose. "What more could you tell me?"

"You're…you're the only man I've ever been with."

It wasn't the first time she'd told him that. He hadn't believed her because it had usually been said in jest. But now, after knowing what those monsters did to her…he could believe it. "Ever? Like, ever, ever?"

She smiled and nodded. "I…I tried, before, but it never worked out. So…I never tried again."

"I thought you said it had been a few months."

"A few months since I've touched myself," she amended.

He chortled as he turned them so he was hovering just to her right. He didn't know if she would be in the mood for anything else. He wouldn't be, if all that shit had been done to him and he'd dug it all up again. So he kept it light as he said, "Well, then, I guess we need to give you a few more orgasms then, make up for things."

She giggled and touched his face. He wasn't sure why, but he loved it when she touched his face, his hair, like he was something to be cherished. He'd not felt that very often in his life. Usually it was a sting of pain, rarely ever a whisper of tenderness.

"I think you should start right now, then."

"Are-are you sure?" he questioned.

She nodded. "I'm positive, Dean. You've only ever touched me with gentleness."

"I wasn't tender earlier…"

She giggled again. "Dean, that was some fabulous fucking. It doesn't always have to be gentle. You can be rough with me. I won't break."

"You should be treated with care, Ryan. The things you've survived…"

"I survived them," she agreed. "But now, I just want to _live_, Dean. I want to _feel,_ I want to be _wanted_."

He chuckled. "Well, honey, you've never been wanted by a man like you've been wanted like me. You drive me crazy every time I see you." He kissed her neck and moved over the top of her.

She opened her legs for him and he brushed her, causing her to shiver. "Dean, from the first time I saw you in Hooligans, you've made me want you. I can't describe how much I want you. Every time I see you, I need you. Touching me, fondling me, fucking me…it's never enough."

He thrust and they were joined. "God, Ryan," he muttered as his head dipped to hers. Their eyes met as they began moving. "You make me want things…"

She pulled his lips down to hers. When he pulled away, she shook her head. "You can't, Dean, and neither can I. Let's not label this with something neither of us can give."

She was right, he knew it. He didn't know how it had happened, but he wanted from her what he thought he wanted from Cassie, what he tried with Lisa. He wanted a future with her and these kids. And he knew he'd never get it. Not with this damn mark, not with Abaddon and Metatron out there, and not with all the terrible things in this world. He wasn't cut out for this life. But he wanted it. Truthfully, he'd always wanted it. He didn't want to be a killer, didn't want to be a monster, yet, that was what he had become. He was a hunter, a predator, someone that should scare her. He was no better than the demons that did those things to her, yet still, she wanted him.

"Okay," he whispered as he felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He saw them reflected in her eyes, too. She wanted this with him, too, he knew it. So, he didn't mention it again as he took her up and over, watching the orgasm take control and rip through her as she rode out the pleasure.

_I love you, _he thought. Even if he couldn't say it, he admitted it to himself now. He had probably loved her since that first time he didn't want to leave her in college. He hadn't known it for what it was at the time, but he could have loved her then. Why else had she been the only woman outside of Lisa and Cassie he'd been with more than once? Three women he'd loved in different ways throughout his life, three women he'd loved and left, or had left him. Three remarkable women, different, yet very similar. Strong, sensitive, not overtly girly, yet incredibly feminine. Three women who had, at one time or another, kicked his ass to put him in his place. No, he had loved them all and left them because of that love, just like he would do in the morning. But for now…

He smiled as he bent to her. "Wanna try something different?"

She smirked. "Well, hell, sweetheart, I'm game," she muttered.

* * *

The next morning, he woke alone but heard the shower running, so he figured that was where Ryan was. He stood and stretched, debating going to join her when he heard babbling on the baby monitor. His brain and his cock warred with him. He wanted to join her. They'd never had sex in the shower together, but the kid… He clicked the button on the monitor, showing a live feed of the baby's room, because, of course she'd have a camera in the baby's room, he saw the kid just laying in bed, just waking up, apparently. Well, if the kid was anything like him, he would be content to lie in bed a few minutes.

He smiled as he made his way to the bathroom and saw Ryan's silhouette against the glass shower door. He knocked gently on it so as not to startle her and she was all smiles as she slid it open. "Yes?"

He licked his lips as he caught a glimpse of wet skin. "May I join you?"

She looked like she was thinking about it for a moment before she giggled and grabbed his hand, pulling him in under the spray.

"Fuck," he muttered as the hot water beat down on him. "This is incredible."

"So are you," she murmured as she put her arms around his neck, bringing him down to her for a kiss.

"You're delectable," he growled as his hands traveled down her wet back to palm her ass.

"I, uh, God," she groaned as his lips attacked her neck. "I've dreamed about this."

His eyebrow rose and the side of his mouth lifted. "Is that a fact? Well, I guess we need to make that dream a reality, don't we?" He grasped under her thighs and she gave a little jump until her legs were wrapped around him and he pushed her into the wall.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she told him as she held onto his shoulders.

"Shower sex _is _fairly complicated, especially if two people try to command it."

She shot him a grin. "Luckily, I'll let you be in control of the situation, Dean, since you're clearly an expert."

"Damn right. I'm the _specialist_."

"Wow me then," she challenged.

He thrust and she moaned as his hands squeezed her thighs. "See, the key here," he muttered as he moved, "Is to keep aware of your surroundings."

"W-Why?" she questioned as she began moving her hands, running them over his short hair, down his neck, massaging slightly, before moving one hand to his nipple.

"Fuck," he growled. "Damn it, woman, I'm concentrating."

She smirked. "What's the matter, Dean? Can't you do more than one thing at once? You're fucking me in the shower. Aren't you _the_ _specialist_?"

"Smart ass," he growled with narrowed eyes.

She smiled. He got her going and almost to the edge before he pulled away, holding onto her as he lowered her legs. She found her footing and she whimpered, but only for a moment before he turned her and pulled her back flat against his chest, one hand sweeping her hair forward, out of his way. She let out a whine and he smiled as he attacked her shoulders, nipping at the ink on her back. "If more angels were like you, I wouldn't have a problem with them," he told her.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "And if devils were more like you, women would throw themselves at them."

He chuckled as his hands traveled, one to her breast, and one down lower, to tangle in her curls. He positioned himself and she gasped as he thrust into her. "Fucking hell," she cried as his hands began moving in time with his thrusts and it took no time at all for them both to finish.

He pulled away then and turned her once more so she was facing him and he gently kissed her lips. "It also helps to have someone who is tall enough to line up appropriately with you."

She laughed at that. He quickly washed off and stepped back out of the shower, throwing a towel around his hips. "Go on and take your time. I'll just go get dressed."

"Thank you!" she called as he walked out of the room.

"Oh, you're more than welcome," he stated quietly as he moved to gather his clothes.

He dressed quickly and checking the monitor again, decided to go get the baby up. He padded barefoot across the hall and down to stop before Hope's room, looked inside, and found her sleeping peacefully, even though her head was at the foot of the bed and half of her body was hanging off the side. Well, he'd woken like that a time or two, himself, though, usually, it was after a bender. Alcohol could screw with you if you drank enough of it. He should know. He shut her door and walked to Bobby's room.

"Hey, little man," he muttered as he opened the door, not wanting to spook the kid.

"Da!"

Dean chuckled. "Is that all you know how to say? Huh? You trying to say my name? Dean. Duh-duh-Dean."

The baby just looked at him and smiled.

"Yeah, you're cute. We get it." He eyed the baby warily. "Well, I guess you want a diaper, huh?"

The baby didn't say anything, save for holding out his arms. Dean picked him up and walked him to the changing table. "Alright, so, I suck at this, okay? But let's let your mom have a minute to herself. It's not like she ever has any help, right?"

The baby giggled and blew a raspberry. Dean got him undressed, changed into a new diaper, figured out where the hell the kid's clothes were, and got him redressed. "Okay, so, you drink out of a cup, right? I guess I could get you some milk or something. Sis is still sleeping, so we won't wake her up yet." He began humming and turned around, startled to find Ryan standing there, wet hair hanging down her back and a smile on her face.

"Are you humming Metallica?"

"It calms me, figured it would work for him, too."

She chuckled. "He likes 'Enter Sandman' actually, if you're going to hum Metallica to him."

"Kid's got good taste in music. I assume we can thank his mom for that?"

"Naturally."

"But not The Eagles."

"Dude, you and Hope have got to let that go. I like The Eagles. Sue me. And furthermore, I blame your father for your dislike of decent music."

"Hey!" he cried indignant. "Dad taught me a lot of decent stuff, Ry. It's not my fault your dad liked rockabilly crap."

Her eyebrow shot up. "'Rockabilly crap'? I know you did not just refer to one of the greatest bands of all time as 'rockabilly crap' like, like they're Nickelback or something!"

They both shivered at _that _comparison. Just then, they heard the sound of the Impala driving up and all of a sudden they also heard, "Mom! Sam and Dean are back!"

Dean felt a blush creep up on his face. "You gonna tell the kid I spent the night?"

"Do _you _want to explain sex to my daughter, Dean?"

"Uh…no. Sammy went on a doughnut run. I stayed here and watched Bobby while you showered. Good enough?"

She smirked and nodded. "Yeah, that works." She took the baby from him and kissed his lips. "Dean, if you ever need me, you know I'm here, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know." He watched her walk out of the room and sighed. He believed her, but he wouldn't call her, _couldn't _call her. He wouldn't pop back into her life again, not now that she had kids. It wasn't fair to any of them.

He sucked in a breath and quickly went to get his boots on before he galloped down the stairs. Coffee was already going and everyone else was already seated at the table.

"Thanks for the doughnuts," Hope said with a powdery face to Sam.

He chuckled and handed her a napkin. "No problem."

"I have fruit," Ryan told them as she pulled a few bowls out of the refrigerator.

"That sounds great, thanks, Ryan," Sam said before he took a sip of his coffee.

Dean went over to the coffee pot and grabbed a mug Ryan had sat out. His fingers brushed hers as she mixed some strawberries, melon, and grapes together for Sam. "Thanks," he murmured to her.

She looked up at Dean and smiled. "Thank _you_."

He grinned and sat down.

"Dean! Try one of these! Sandy makes the best doughnuts in three states!"

Dean's eyebrow rose as he took the doughnut from Hope. "Three states, huh? You sure? Because I've had some pretty good doughnuts in my day."

"Uh-huh, but they aren't Sandy's."

"Sandra Clare. She has a bakery in town. They really are the best," Ryan said as she sat down with her own bowl of fruit.

"You don't eat doughnuts?" Dean asked around a mouth full of fried excellence. The kid might be right; they were some of the best doughnuts he'd ever had.

Ryan wrinkled her nose. "Uh…no. I love sweets as much as the next person, but fried dough is a little much for even me. My kids, however, don't have that problem."

He grinned as Bobby shoved a handful of cut up doughnut into his mouth. "Looks like Mr. Bobby will need another bath when he's done," Dean commented with a chuckle.

Ryan laughed and nodded. "Yeah, probably. He's a little piggy, aren't you?" Ryan cooed as she tickled the baby's neck.

Breakfast was over too soon for all of them and he dreaded leaving even as he knew he needed to. They got cleaned up and headed for the door. Once out on the porch, he gave Hope a hug and a kiss on her forehead before he took the baby from Ryan and hugged him too. He handed the baby to Sam whose eyes widened and Dean held in a smirk before he turned back to Ryan and pulled her to him for a bone crushing hug.

"Take care of yourself, Dean," he heard her whisper in his ear. "I'm here for you if you need me. I've never changed my number. It's always there for you, tucked in your phone."

He just nodded and released her, fighting the emotion he refused to name as he did so. She squeezed his arm right over the mark and let him go.

He walked to the car without looking back and slid behind the wheel. He glanced up in the rearview mirror and noticed Sam taking a moment to say something. He watched as they had a short conversation and he saw Sam nod and pass the baby to Hope so he could also hug Ryan, hugging her a little longer than Dean thought was strictly necessary before going down on one knee to give Hope a hug and kiss like Dean had.

As he got in, Dean asked, "What did she tell you?"

Sam's jaw ticked. "She wanted me to call her if something happened to you."

He felt that twinge again, like, maybe he should go back, like, maybe he was making a mistake here. But it was too damn late. He'd taken the mark. He had to follow through with it. So he smirked. "Ain't nothing going to happen to me, Sammy. I'm gonna gut that that bitch, Abaddon, help Cas with the fuckfest upstairs, get rid of that smarmy bastard, Metatron, and live happily fucking ever after."

Sam didn't say a word.

* * *

**An2: Okay...so...the kid? Hope? My daughter. Her name is even Hope. Yes, I wrote her in the story. I can. It's my story. Anyway, some of these things I've literally taken from her mouth. I've wrote stuff down she's said just so I could put it in this chapter. And the songs? OMG. Totally her. She loves Renegade. It's her favorite song of the moment. She loves Big Time Rush and yes, we did have the conversation how Carlos is her soul mate. Don't judge. She's ten. **

**So...next chapter...Dean wakes up with the mark! I hope you're ready!**

**Next week I will be on vacay (for two saturdays, actually) so even though I'll take my memory stick with me, I MIGHT not get a chance to post. If not, I'm sorry. The next few chapters all run close together in time, so I feel the need not to break them up for too long. So, hopefully, I'll see you guys next week! I'll be the one tanned and fabulous. ;) **


	7. Monster

**Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Supernatural. Wish that I did! Because, man, would I love to say I owned those boys!**

**AN: Hey, guys! SOOOO sorry I didn't update last week! Both kids are sick. Ugh. No fun whatsoever. Here's the newest chapter! Hang on...for two weeks we will have demon!Dean then we're going back in time (you'll understand when we get there) Don't forget to show me some love on the way out, kay? **

* * *

**(Tag to 9X23 "Do You Believe in Miracles" AU as of Season 10's Premier, I'm sure)**

"I never lied, Dean," he heard Crowley say from somewhere in the darkness. Dean snorted internally. _Whatever helps you sleep better at night, _he thought. He faded in and out a few times. Wasn't this death? Wasn't he dead by now? Why couldn't he see anything? He remembered being dragged to hell by the hellhounds when his deal came due. He remembered dying and waking up in heaven, also. So why couldn't he wake up? Instead, he was floating in the abyss of darkness.

He continued to listen to Crowley's melodious voice floating through his ears. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was getting a bad feeling about where Crowley's words were going…

"But…there is one story about Cain I have…forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than become the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So, he took his own life with the Blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go."

_What? You son of a bitch! What do you mean? Am I dead or not? _

"You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me…no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheeseburger uneaten…that I began to let myself believe."

Dean felt something in his hand. He _felt. _Something was happening.

"Maybe miracles do come true," Crowley stated.

Something was bubbling, building inside him, like black oil racing through his veins. He could feel it, and dread pitted in his stomach. He wasn't in hell. He wasn't in heaven. But he was dead. He wasn't Dean Winchester anymore, was he?

"Listen to me, Dean Winchester, what you're feeling now – it's not death. It's life – a new kind of life."

He felt it. He was empty, but at the same time, full. He wasn't _him _anymore, but he was _something. _

"Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel."

He couldn't open his eyes. To open his eyes was to betray everything he had been, everything he wanted to be…

"And let's go take a howl at that moon."

He tried to stop it, but he couldn't. The mark had taken over. He opened his eyes.

"There you are, Squirrel. See? No harm no foul. How do you feel?"

Dean blinked. He could see things in crystal clear black and white. Figuratively, not literally. No, if anything, he could see every color of the rainbow and, hell, a few new colors as well. Everything was sharp and in focus and he was…blank. He was completely devoid of emotions. "What am I?" he asked gruffly, his voice a bit deeper than it usually was.

"A new creature, reborn out of death. What do you think you are?"

"Demon," he growled.

Crowley smiled. "Yes, a demon, but _the _demon. A true knight of hell if I've ever seen it."

"I…" confusion warred in him. He didn't feel, yet, at the same time, he could feel a myriad of emotions. They were just…separate from him.

"It will take a while to adjust, Dean. You haven't had centuries to prepare as a tortured soul would, though, I do suppose you've had decades, haven't you? Since long before your first jaunt into hell. Come. I will show you everything you need to know."

Dean stood but stopped. "Can I trust you?"

Crowley looked at him. "Who else could you trust, _but _me, Dean? If you hadn't the mark, Metatron would have killed you. If so, then Sam would have made a deal with me and really, would that solve anything? Isn't it better that you are going with me willingly, instead of me having one of my pets drag him down to hell?"

Dean couldn't ignore that. Crowley was right. Sammy had to stay safe. Even if he felt no…emotional connections at the moment, he _knew _Sammy had to stay safe. "Okay."

He'd followed Crowley like a little puppy out of the bunker and in a wink, they were gone, just like the demons they were.

The next few days passed in a blur as Crowley helped Dean realize who he was. He was not human. He had no ties to humanity, not anymore. He was a demon. And as such, he should embrace the things Alistair had taught him, embrace the evil within him. It was…freeing. He had always loved pain and suffering, killing and maiming, and Crowley had a long list of creatures that deserved just that. In fact, that was how they wound up going to a warehouse where a few of Abaddon's followers cowered in hiding. Only a few swipes of his Blade and had, naturally, dispersed of the traitors.

Dean was just wiping the blood off of The First Blade when he felt a rush of something cool blow against him. He turned quickly and saw Castiel standing before him.

Dean waited for a flash of recognition, and when none came, he smiled cruelly. Oh, he _remembered, _he just did not _feel_. And _hell, _was it nice not to feel a damn thing. "Hello, little angel. Come to see if you can find who I used to be within this shell?"

"Dean. You are in there. I know you are. I see your soul, even if it is damaged by demon darkness."

Dean laughed flatly. "Cas, Cas, Cas…oh, you poor thing. How foolish you must feel. You've given up everything for me. Your grace, your humanity, your followers, your life…everything. And for what? For me to be this?" Dean gestured his hand up and down his body as he flashed his black eyes at the angel. "I'm what you despise, am I not? An abomination ten times worse than what sweet, little Sam had been with his demon blood. Do you still care? Do you still _love _me, little angel?"

"I have and will always, care for you Dean," Castiel began uncertainly.

Dean's sneer grew. "Yes. Care. But you know, I want to hear you _say _it."

"S-Say what?" Castiel asked, and Dean could hear some of that oh so sweet confusion in the angel's voice.

"That you love me, Castiel. That you love me, who I was. Who I am no longer."

"You are still in there, Dean. I can feel you…"

Dean smiled. "I bet you'd _like _to feel me, little angel." He sidled up to Cas and ran his nose along Cas' face. "Tell me, angel face, did you ever want _more _from me?"

Cas' eyebrows knit. "What do you mean?"

Dean chuckled. "Sex, Cas. Come on. I saw the looks you gave me. I'm not a complete moron. And though I might be a different…creature…than I was then, trust me, I remember _everything._"

Cas leaned back from him slightly, but that just caused Dean to move closer. "Dean, I do not know what you ever thought, but trust me when I say, I never had feelings of a sexual nature for you. You are my brother in arms, or you were. I considered you family. I still do. Please, learn how to channel this evil within you. If not for me, do it for Sam…"

Dean let out another laugh as he looked at his brother. The man-cub looked so lost and forlorn, like a five year old peeking out of a thirty two year old body. "Sammy! I almost forgot about you! How could I forget my dear brother? Another would-be king. I tell ya, I bet you didn't feel this juiced on demon blood." He lifted the blade to his left arm and sliced it, so it began to ooze, the red dripping down his arm obscenely. He held out his arm to Sam. "Smell it. Don't you know it tastes delicious? You could be with me, Sammy. All you have to do is give in. Just a taste. Come on, we can march straight down there to hell and let old Luci out of his cage. Wouldn't that be a hoot and a half? Dude, the things we could do, the shit we could fuck up…Luci wearing you as his meat suit, me, being his number one knight…"

"What?" Crowley began, but Dean just sent a bit of power his way, knocking him to the ground and shutting him up.

"No, Crowley, I'm not talking to you. Now, sit down and let the grown ups have a discussion, first."

He eyed Sam, who looked more than a little terrified. The evil smile reappeared on his face. "Think about it, Sammy. You can't have me as the old Dean, so, why not join the new Dean? You'd be a great leader down south. Some of them still hold out hopes for The Boy King. Apparently it's still in the prophesies…"

Sam started shaking his head. "No. No, Dean, please!"

Dean laughed flatly and then turned back to Cas. "Tell me, dearest Castiel, did you mourn?"

"Of course I did! When Metatron told me he had killed you…"

Dean let out another bark of laughter. "Oh, I bet the little angel's tears were so sweet they'd give you cavities. Did Metatron laugh at you? Did he sneer at you? Do you think he realized what he had done to me? That he had made me into your destroyer?"

Something flashed in Castiel's eyes. "This isn't you, Dean. Put down the blade, see who you are, who you really are…"

Anger flashed back through Dean, causing his eyes to go black once more. "No. This is who I am."

The Angel Blade slipped down into Castiel's right hand. "I don't want to do this."

Dean smirked anew. "Your grace is low, Cas. You're weak."

"I'm strong enough," Cas stated.

Dean just looked at him for a moment as Cas' eyes turned and began glowing blue as the angel grace flowed through him.

The First Blade sung in Dean's hand as the power from The Mark went out into it.

Cas began to glow and he showed his wings.

Dean grinned. "Let's do this."

The fight began slowly, just slashes toward one another as they gauged each other's response times. Then, it became more aggressive as both realized the other wouldn't flag, or weaken quickly. Cas caught him with a slash across his chest and Dean retaliated with one to Cas' arm.

It went on like that for an eternity it seemed, trading cuts, and punches when blades wouldn't work until Cas tripped and Dean was on him instantaneously. Cas was quick, though, and protected himself with his Angel Blade as The First Blade swung down toward him in what should have been a killing blow.

Dean had Cas on the ground, straddling him, pressing down on him. The grace was leaking out of the angel from twenty different cuts all over his body. Their eyes met over the crossed Angel and First Blades.

"Dean," Cas panted, "Please, come back to me. Come back to _us._ What do you want me to say? I love you. Sam loves you. There are more than a few people that want to see you good. Please do not do this…"

Something was happening. Dean felt…off. For the first time since awakening, he felt the stirrings of _something. _

Cas's eyes met his and he said, "I'm sorry, brother," and kneed Dean in the groin. It was enough of a shock that the angel would play dirty, to cause Dean's grip to slip off the Blade and Cas managed to wrestle it away from him.

Dean's eyes cleared and he felt them return back to their normal shade of green. For just that instant, he remembered who he had been and _felt_.

He stumbled away from the angel and sank to his knees. "Cas?"

Cas got to his knees and shook his head weakly. "Dean."

"Cas? What…what's happening?"

Castiel smiled softly and held The First Blade close to him. "This, Dean, this is where the evil truly lies. The connection between it and The Mark is what makes the evil within you sing. Without it, you will be more in touch with your humanity. You will be able to function."

"I-I don't know what to do…"

"I do," Castiel told him. "Come with me, Dean. I will make this work."

Dean shook his head. "No…I can't…Cas…" He looked over at Sam, who had fear and disgust written all over his face. He couldn't do this. He couldn't be here. He focused his energy and disappeared to hell.

He went to the 'rooms' Crowley had fashioned him and lay down on the bed. He didn't sleep now, but he liked having somewhere to just relax.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Crowley asked as he stormed in. "What did you do, letting the angel take the blade?"

"Fuck off, Crowley," he growled.

"You're being a child, Dean. You are a demon, damn it! You should bloody well act like one!"

"I don't want to be!" he screamed, and he blinked as he realized it was true. He didn't want to be a demon. Of course, he had no choice in the matter, but there you go.

"Well boo-hoo," Crowley sneered. "You are, in fact, a demon, Dean!"

"I said shut up!" Dean roared and sent out power to slap Crowley against the wall. His eyes narrowed as he sat up. "Look, I don't know what you want from me, but I'm not your puppet, Crowley! Not now, not ever!"

Crowley smiled and pushed himself off the wall. "I don't know why you don't accept it, Dean. You are a demon. Nothing can cure you of it."

"A demon can be cured," Dean stated petulantly. He knew it. They had almost cured Crowley.

"Ah, yes, a _demon _can be cured. Your average, run-of-the-mill demon, and possibly even the king of the crossroads, but a _knight of hell _can not be cured, Dean. You are a demon forever." And with that, Crowley vanished.

"Fuck," Dean muttered. If he'd had it in him, he would have cried.

* * *

Dean didn't know how long he stayed holed up in his rooms. No one came to bother him, and he didn't need to eat, so he just sat. He wasn't sure what to do with himself, so, he stayed right there, where the desire to do evil couldn't penetrate his human emotions. He still didn't feel…normal, he supposed, though, how would he know? He remembered being human, remembered feeling things, and that was what it felt like, memories only, not actual feelings. It was like with the need to eat; he could remember feeling hungry, but he wasn't actually hungry.

He was ruminating over this when a soft knock sounded on his door. "What?" he called out crossly.

"Dean? Can I come in?"

_Cas. Great. _"Yeah, I guess so."

Castiel walked in and smiled. He seemed…different. Better. Dean looked at him for a moment before his eyes widened. "How did you get your grace back?" Because that was what it was. He was a full blown angel once more.

"It isn't mine."

"So, it'll wear off over time?"

Cas shook his head. "No. It is now mine because it was given to me."

"By whom?"

"Metatron."

"What? You even _wanted _part of that douche inside you? Dude, and I'm thinking _I'm _the one that's fucked up."

Castiel chuckled. "It was not my idea, I assure you. No, we convened a court and had a trial against him. He was convicted and sentenced to live on earth in a human jail. I, personally, wanted him to rot for eternity in heaven's jail, but I was outvoted. It was understood that he would give up his grace willingly to me as part of his plea-bargain."

"Wow. So…where is he?"

Cas' eyebrows rose. "Nowhere I am going to tell you. You will not go kill him. Trust me, there is a list of humans as well as other angels that want him dead also, Dean. I will not reveal his location. It wasn't the justice I wanted for him, but I can not say I do not appreciate the gift of his grace."

"And it won't burn out of you?"

Cas shook his head. "If grace is given willingly, it bonds with the angel that receives it. That was the problem before, I stole it. I…I am guilty of many things, but it was agreed that I am one of the best suited to help lead heaven now."

"One of the ones?"

Cas nodded. "After Metatron's fate was decided, we then discussed many details, one of which was the fact no angel can handle being in charge of heaven alone. An archangel, certainly, has the capacity, but even then, Michael ran things, but Raphael was his second in command. Now, though, we are at a loss, so, we will be a democracy. It is quite an adjustment for everyone…"

Dean snorted. "I bet. So…what's up? Feeling nostalgic? Wanted to come gawk at the freak that used to be your human friend?"

Cas sent a sorrowful look his way. "No, Dean. I came with news. The angels are willing to forgive you your transgressions. I can cure you of being a demon."

"You can?" That sounded…too good to be true, actually. And entirely too simple. Dean had the distinct impression curing him wouldn't be just like Cas had done in the past, a simple touch and it was done.

Cas nodded. "All we need to do is have you give The Mark back to Cain. Once the mark is removed, I can, with a bit of help and a few ancient ingredients, turn you back human."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I'm still screwed."

"Why?"

"That was one of the first things Crowley told me I needed to do…get rid of the competition…"

"You killed Cain?" Castiel's voice held nothing but surprise.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Cain wanted me to, and Crowley reminded me of the promise I made to him that I would, once everything was over…"

"So you killed him?!"

"I'm sorry, Cas! How the hell was I supposed to know I wasn't supposed to do that?! Huh?! I didn't know, okay! I wasn't in my right mind!"

"Well no shit," Cas stated bitterly.

Dean looked at him and chuckled. It then turned into full-out belly laughs until he had to sit down on the bed once more.

"I am glad I amuse you, Dean. But to use your words, we are royally screwed."

Dean hiccupped as his laughter subsided and he wiped his eyes. "Thanks, Cas. I needed that laugh." He sobered up and shook his head. "So, I'm not eligible for the cure. What's next?"

Cas winced. "There is one other idea…Hannah originally suggested it…it is quite ludicrous…"

"Cas, just blurt it out already."

"Hannah suggested you take over for Crowley."

"As the king of the crossroads? Cas, man, I'm not comfortable tricking people into deals. Besides, who of the demons would want me to be over them anyway?"

"No, Dean, not as the king of the crossroads…"

"Then…?"

"Are you going to make me say it?"

Dean blinked as the pieces of the puzzle fit together, then, "YOU WANT ME TO BE THE KING OF HELL?!"

Cas winced. "As I said, it is not my idea. I didn't really care for this idea, but given your options…"

"My options?"

Cas blew out a breath and sat next to Dean on the bed. "You are either on the side of angels, or you are against them, Dean. You aren't human anymore. There is no middle ground for you. You can't continue to let Crowley dictate who you are and what you do. You can't be a hunter anymore, either."

"I know that, Cas." He had come to the realization his days of hunting were over. Besides, would Sam even want to see him? Truthfully, he wasn't sure he even wanted to see Sam. What would they say to one another? The last time he saw his brother, he tried to talk him into drinking demon blood and being Lucifer's bitch again.

"Then, if you aren't for us, you are against us, as I said."

Dean's brow knit. "Wait, you're saying, if you can't cure me, and if I don't agree to take over hell, the angels are going to send a hit squad after me?"

Cas winced again. "I'm just giving you fair warning, Dean. You were right when you said you are an abomination. I'm sorry. I will, of course, deny I told you any of this and you are free to be on the lamb, but…"

"I don't want to stay in hiding for eternity, Cas!"

Castiel nodded. "I agree. I would hate to see that fate befall you, Dean."

They sat there in silence for a moment. "So…King of Hell, huh?"

Castiel shrugged. "If you become king, since you have the gift of The Mark, you can create a few knights to help you, people you trust that are here."

Dean snorted at that. "Who in Hell do I trust? Seriously?"

Castiel thought a moment. "Perhaps 'trust' isn't the right word, but I am sure there are those souls you believe could handle the job. Think back to who may be here…"

Dean thought a moment and two names popped into his head. "Hey, Cas, where do demons go when they're killed with the angel blade?"

Cas smiled. "I see where you are going with this. They are in a special part of Hell. They are tortured further for eternity, particularly if they went against one of the hierarchy's orders."

That gave Dean another thought. "What about ones killed with the knife?"

Cas thought a moment, then nodded. "Those too."

Dean smiled. "I see. And ones exorcized?"

"They are in another area since they were just sent back down." Cas paused. "You have not looked around here much, have you?"

Dean shook his head. "Crowley's had me on a short leash."

"That doesn't sound like the Dean Winchester I know."

"I'm not, though, am I?"

"Dean, you are what you make yourself. If you choose to be, you can be as evil as you wish. But…if you choose to do good with this…gift you now have, then, you can do much of whatever you want."

Dean blew out a breath. "King of Hell, huh?" he murmured again as his brain processed the suggestion once more.

"It is just a mere suggestion."

"If I do this, it makes it much safer for the people topside, doesn't it?"

Cas nodded hesitantly. "It will, because, ultimately, you will be the one in charge. But bear in mind, there must be a balance, Dean. A balance between good and evil. You will still have to recruit souls. You will still get the murderers, the rapists, the dredges of society, but you will also have those that make the crossroads deals."

Dean thought of Ryan, how her life was ruined because of demons who had men's desires. There were men, normal, human men who liked to do those same things. He could handle taking care of those scumbags. The people that hurt little girls, kids in general, men that beat their wives, yeah, he would have no problem handling those. And, hey, if he went a little easier on a soul for making a bad deal, well, he could probably handle that, too. After all, he would be the big kahuna, right?

A slow smile spread across his face. "I'll do it, Cas."

"You will?"

He nodded. "But, I have one caveat."

"Name it."

"Sam gets a free ride to heaven. No matter what, the kid gets in the gates to be with Mom and Dad and Jess."

"Absolutely, of course."

"Did, ah, have you seen Kevin?"

Cas nodded. "I have. He is still fine with his mother."

"He hasn't headed to heaven?"

Cas shook his head. "He seems to think he's better off here at the moment."

"You don't think there's any way you could bring him back to life, is there?"

Cas just looked at him. "Dean, you of all people should know that what is dead should stay dead. Besides, I'm not an archangel. Only they can resurrect cremated remains."

Dean nodded. He had figured that, but it had been worth a shot. "Okay, then, what do I need to do? Sign in blood? Make a deal? What?"

Castiel smiled. "Nothing, Dean. You need do nothing besides go claim what is yours."

"Wh-what do you mean, what is mine?"

"You are the New Cain. He was always the one supposed to be in charge. He shirked his responsibilities and walked away. The knights ran things until Abaddon went missing and Azazel took over as Lucifer's right hand man. After you killed him, Lilith decided to take over. Truthfully, the two of you Winchesters have kept the leadership role down here on a turntable for years now. Half the demons are just waiting to be one of your supporters."

"They are?"

Cas nodded. "A lot of them still believed Sam would find a way to become king. But once he began the trials and purified himself of demon blood, they assumed it would never come to pass. There was renewed excitement when you took The Mark because some of the old ones remembered Cain and remembered his rein."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I've learned it in the past few days. When Hannah made the suggestion, I needed to do some research."

"Have-have you told Sam?"

Cas shook his head. "I wanted to wait and see what you agreed to first." He paused, as if deciding what to say, when he added, "Truthfully, he is not taking this well."

"I can't see him, Cas. I can't…I can't be _this _and be the King of Hell and be his brother. Not anymore."

Cas nodded. "I know. I believe he has found someone to care for him."

"To care for him? What do you mean?"

"I have sent him to visit a friend of yours, someone that can care for him in your stead."

Dean's brows knit. "Who?"

"Your friend, Ryan Fawcett. She can care for him, can she not?"

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times in surprise before he nodded. "I-I guess so. Look after him, how, exactly?"

"However he needs it. She is friends with your other friend, Sherriff Jody Mills, is she not? Are they not all friendly?"

"Yes, of course they are, but…"

"Sam is not in a very good mind place, Dean. I can't trust he will not do something stupid. As you have no other family, and I am quite concerned with the workings of heaven, I needed to ensure his safety. What is it you always said? 'Sammy's got to stay safe.' Wasn't that your mantra?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"So, she will keep Sam safe."

"How do you know?"

Cas opened his mouth to speak, and Dean had the feeling the angel wanted to say something, but changed his mind and went with, "I have faith that she will."

Dean eyed the angel. Why did he have the feeling Cas knew more than he was letting on? "That's not much good, Cas. Faith is a fickle thing."

"I will go to them now, then, if you wish. I will go and make sure of Sam's safety."

"Please. I…I know she'd take him in, but I wanna make sure…"

"Indeed. I promise this to you, Dean, I will help keep him safe."

"Good."

"Before I go…I realize it is petty of me, perhaps even prideful…"

Dean was curious. "But…?"

"Can I be there when you tell Crowley you are taking over?"

Dean laughed again and clasped Castiel on the back, "You got yourself a deal."

Castiel smiled and followed Dean out into the hall. "Oh, I almost forgot," Cas said as he pulled The First Blade out of his coat. "You might need this."

Dean held up both hands and backed away from the angel. "Cas, man, I can't…"

Castiel nodded. "You own this, Dean. You can control it once you practice with it enough."

Dean shook his head adamantly. "No. I can't, not yet, alright? Let me be a demon for a little while, let me be the king for a bit, then you can try it with me again, okay? Now that you're stronger…"

Cas sighed but nodded. "I will have it kept somewhere safe until you need it."

Dean smiled. "If I need it, I can call it to me."

Cas blinked. "Alright, well, that makes sense. Are you certain?"

Dean thought about when he killed Abaddon and nodded. "I'm almost certain."

Cas put the blade away and nodded. "Very well. Now, let us go talk to Crowley."

Dean smirked. He could almost hear giddiness in the angel's voice. They walked down the corridor getting strange looks from the demons they passed. "Think we're weird to be friends?"

"I do not believe it should matter that we are different species, Dean. You were human when I was angel. In fact, we were only ever the same species for a short period of time, and during that time, we were less friendly than we have ever been."

Dean winced. "I don't think I ever apologized for that…"

Cas held up a hand. "Say no more, Dean. There were…extenuating circumstances to everything that has happened in this past year, truthfully, since before even that. Nothing is easy and normalcy is just a pipe dream."

Dean chuckled. "You can say that again."

"Normalcy is just a pipe dream."

Dean stopped and looked at the angel.

"What?" Castiel asked.

Dean chuckled under his breath and shook his head as he resumed walking. "Nothing, man, absolutely nothing. Don't change, okay?"

"I do not believe further changes will be necessary in me, though, I do feel I will grow into this leadership role I've been thrust into as well as…"

"Cas, man, shut up."

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it with a snap. They walked along in silence for a few moments until they reached Crowley's door. Cas raised his hand to knock, but Dean just kicked the door in. "Honey, I'm home," Dean snarled.

Crowley glared at him. "Dean. Castiel. Good to see you fellows, but I am busy just now…"

Dean's eyebrow rose as he took in the lipstick prints all over Crowley's collar and the bimbo currently on the floor where she had obviously been dumped from Crowley's lap. "Take off, cupcake," he growled at the woman.

Her eyes flickered black but she cowered in fear as she slunk to the door and hurried out of it.

Crowley watched her go a moment before his eyes narrowed at Dean. "Surely you could have waited just a few more minutes, squirrel. I was rather enjoying myself."

"So I could see," Dean deadpanned. "But, see, Cas here just told me something interesting."

"And that is?"

Dean smiled as he walked around Crowley's desk and sat on the edge of it. "I'm stronger than you."

Crowley blinked. "And?"

"And, maybe, just maybe, I don't like being under you anymore, Crowley. See, I got this knight juice pumping through me, but I'm not like Abaddon, I'm not going to fight you for the crown."

"Good. Now, let's discuss what our plans are…"

"No, Crowley, you misunderstand. I'm not going to fight you. You're going to hand it over."

"Hand what over?"

"The crown. I'm the new king, Crowley."

"Listen here…" Crowley began, but Dean grabbed him by the throat and shoved him into the wall.

Dean's eyes flashed black. "You listen, you cocksucking son of a whore, I'm stronger than you, I'm better than you, and you really can't handle another fight." He grinned. "She was right about one thing, you're nothing but a glorified car salesman and a car salesman can never be more than a peon. I'M the head dick now, Crowley. Understand?"

Fear flashed through Crowley's eyes as Castiel held out The First Blade for Dean to take. Of course, Dean wouldn't take it. With all the hate for the bastard running through him in this moment, he'd probably kill the son of a bitch, and he didn't really need to do that. Crowley _was _good at his job, so Dean wanted to keep him, just in a diminished capacity.

Crowley nodded. "I-I understand," he stated fearfully. Dean released him and he rubbed his throat. "This isn't over, Dean."

Dean's smile grew. "Yes, it is, because you're a piss ant, Crowley. Didn't you hear? Everyone wants a Winchester to be in charge of Hell. And guess what? I'm here. Boom. Suck it."

The two men looked at one another for a long moment before Crowley bowed sarcastically. "This isn't over, Dean," he repeated.

Dean moved to sit in Crowley's chair and propped his feet up on Crowley's desk. "Yes, it is. Go out there and get shit done, Crowley. Let everyone know I'm the bastard with the crown. If anyone has a problem with it, tell them to feel free to drop by, have a chat."

Crowley growled and stormed out the door.

Castiel clasped his hands together. "That was quite enjoyable, Dean. Thank you."

Dean grinned. "My pleasure. Now, go check on Sammy, please?"

Castiel inclined his head. "I will go right now."

Dean blinked and the angel was gone. Dean sighed as he looked around the room. Yeah, this would work well enough. It wasn't like he needed it personalized or anything. He hit a button on a telephone and a sugary voice asked, "Yes, my king? How can I help you?"

He smirked. "The new king is in and he's horny."

Apparently it wasn't an odd comment, because she merely asked, "Would you like a blonde, brunette, or redhead, sir?"

His grin grew. Fuck yeah. It was good to be king.

* * *

Dean was still chucking as he remembered the look on Crowley's face, and the subsequent need to prove himself and his pitiful attempt to thwart Dean from taking over. Dean had called The First Blade to him in that instant. It had come soaring through to his hand from wherever Cas had hidden it. All he'd had to do was smite a few of Crowley's little henchmen and threaten Crowley with the blade to his throat. For all of Crowley's faults, he was predictable. Dean knew he wouldn't want to die for his cause, so he'd slunk back to take over the crossroads deals. No one else had come forward thus far to challenge him. In fact, everyone seemed to be praising his name. It was…unsettling in a way, but he was enjoying it. This newfound celebrity status was more than a little stimulating.

Now, he was a king with no knights. "Time to gather up a few trusty helpers," he mused softly as he slipped further into Hell. It had taken him almost a century of hell-time to get everything organized like he wanted it, and he couldn't take a break to simply make knights, especially when the souls he wanted as knights would need to be appropriated. He couldn't just pick some shmuck to be one of his most trusted allies. That much was for certain. No, he needed someone special. And one of those was in one of the deepest recesses of Hell. Dante was partially right; instead of circles of hell, there were layers. And the layer he needed to travel to was one of the deepest ones.

He could hear her screams from halfway down the hall. But, no, it wasn't screams of agony, it was screams of agitation. "Come on, you fucktwit! I've been tortured for _pleasure _harder than that! Is that the best you can do?!"

Dean chuckled to himself as he sidled up to the door and slipped inside. He tapped the torturer on the shoulder and said, "Take five."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Just a guy the new boss sent down. Seems as though he's got an interest in this one," Dean thumbed at the girl. "Go on. I'll deal with her."

The demon shrugged and walked out, not realizing who he was talking to.

Dean turned to the woman on the table. Her soul was in the form of a woman, the last one she had inhabited, actually. He wondered why she didn't change. As demons in Hell, you could have any shape you chose. It was when you were topside, you needed a meatsuit. "Hiya, Meg, how's tricks?"

"Well, Dean Winchester, as I don't live and breathe. How the hell are you? Come to bust me out?"

Dean shrugged. "Yes and no. Got a proposition for you."

Her eyebrow rose. "Is that a fact? And what is that?"

He flicked his eyes to black and smiled. "Care to play on my team?"

She blinked. "What the fuck has been going on topside while I've been down here?!"

He smirked. "It's a long, sordid tale, Meg. Here's the abridged version; Sam almost died trying to lock this place up, I let him get possessed by an angel, who turned around, killed the prophet, I took the Mark of Cain, Metatron killed me, I became a demon. Cas is now on a panel of angels ruling heaven, and I'm the new king of Hell."

She just looked at him a minute before she burst out laughing. "Been a bit busy, have we?"

He shrugged again. "Eh, well, it's a job. So…what 'ya say? Wanna be one of my knights?"

She eyed him warily. "What does that mean for me, exactly?"

"First off, you get to keep a meatsuit, even downstairs, if you choose to. Second, you get some nifty powers that come along with knighthood, and third, you work directly with me in the job I choose for you."

"I'm waiting for the catch in all this."

He shook his head. "No catch. But I'm not sending demons topside to fuck up shit. If one gets out, I'm giving hunters up there the right to send their demon asses right back down here. Crossroads deals will still be made, though, I can't avoid them. Shit happens."

"So…what will my job title be?"

He grinned. "Well, you _did _apprentice under Alistair, didn't you?"

She smirked. "Yeah. And?"

"Think you'd like to be Mistress of Torture?"

"Hell yeah."

He nodded and snapped his fingers. All of her chains fell away. He walked a step closer and grasped her wrist, healing her with his power and marking her as a knight of hell. "Done. Now, I do have one more thing I would like for you to do."

"Name it."

"I'd like for you to take breaks from your torture from time to time to check in on Sam. He knows you, and…"

Meg stood from the table and rubbed her wrists. "Haven't you seen him? How did he take it? What's going on?"

He shook his head. He hadn't even considered it, and now, Cas had stopped asking him. It had almost been a year on earth since he died. He couldn't just pop back up now. He wanted to see his brother, some of his human emotions plagued him, but he knew this was for the best. "I haven't seen him. It's better this way. You go check on him in a few months, alright? He's still…adjusting. Cas is keeping an eye on him, too."

She smiled. "Still looking after him, huh? You sure you're a demon, Dean?"

His eyes flickered black in irritation. "Don't fuck with me, Meg. I'm stronger than you, don't forget it. You can't push my buttons. It will only end bad for you."

She shrugged. "Can't be much worse than what I've had before, Dean."

His eyes narrowed warily. "You aren't the only one that apprenticed under Alistair," he threatened. "Don't make me regret this," he muttered.

She held up both hands. "Trust me, I won't. I kinda like you, Dean."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, save it for someone who gives a shit, Meg. I don't know how the hell you ended up my 'friend' down here. You did everything you could to get me killed when I was younger."

"You've got to put the past, behind you."

He glared at her a moment, but he couldn't quite help the grin. "I know you didn't just quote "The Lion King" to me."

She laughed. "Hakuna Matata, baby."

* * *

Now that he had Meg in his pocket, so to speak, he traveled down to the human soul torture level. Here, it got a bit sticky. He was still uncomfortable down there. Too many of the souls on those racks were ones he, himself, had tortured under Alistair's reign. He hated seeing them, but there was one in particular he hated to see…the one that he would need forgiveness from before he could proceed.

He stood a bit taller as he walked into her room. "Leave us," he growled at the torturer, and the young demon knew well enough to be frightened of the beast that had walked in wearing Dean Winchester's skin.

The woman looked over at him with almost a bored expression upon her face. "Oh, do be a dear and leave me the hell alone. The psychological torture has long since quit working on me. No one is coming to rescue me. I'm a demon now, thank you very much, so just bugger off and leave me the hell alone."

Dean winced as he looked at what used to be Bela Talbot. He remembered only too well Alistair giving her to him to torture. He had gotten satisfaction from it, making her pay for all the ways she'd fucked him and Sam over. Sure, he'd made her enjoy it, on occasion, but then he would torture her some more. It was the sickest form of S & M he had ever participated in. The sad thing was, they'd both taken pleasure in it.

"Bela," he stated softly.

She eyed him warily. "Dean? Is it really you? Or are you a new form of torture?"

He shrugged. "No. I'm me, and I'm not a new form of torture." He flicked his eyes black. "I'm a demon, too. And guess what? Now _I _run the show."

"Is that a fact? Well, good for you. What do you want me to do about it? Give you a medal?"

He chuckled. "No. I, uh, I wanted to come and offer you a job."

"Is that a fact? And why should I accept?"

"Because, you deserve to."

"Damn right I do," she muttered. "But that didn't answer my question."

He paused and blew out a breath. "I remember feeling bad for torturing you, Bela, but then I remember how much we enjoyed torturing souls together, the depraved shit we did down here, the sex and blood and…so, no, I felt bad about it, but not that bad."

She chuckled flatly. "Well that's simply for you, Dean. I'm glad to see you've absolved yourself of your sins. So, where does that leave me?"

"With the job offer."

"What would this entail? I'll not be your little bitch, Dean."

He snorted. "Nor would I want you to be. No, you'll be a knight. I wondered if you would like to be in charge of our inflow."

"A glorified secretary? Is that all I am?"

"No, of course not. Consider it the position of CFO. If souls were money, you'd be the one in charge of receiving. How does that sound?"

"Marginally better."

He snapped his fingers and her bindings gave way. "Give it a thought."

She stepped down from the cage-like table she had been bound to and sauntered to him. She ran a hand up his arm. "And if I asked for anything else while I was working for you?"

He grinned. "Well, I can't sue anyone for sexual harassment, Bela."

She laughed throatily. "Is that a 'yes', Dean?"

"It's a 'maybe'," he told her with an air of warning in his voice. "I've got better things to do than spend all my time screwing around with you."

"Oh, but it could be a perk to entice me to the job."

His mouth set. "I'm not negotiating, Bela. Take it or leave it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Of course I'll take it, you imbecile. I was just hoping for…"

He grasped her wrist as it began a slow descent down his body. "I know what you were hoping for, Bela. And trust me, it's on the agenda. But right now, I've got shit to deal with."

"Very well. Consider it done."

He nodded. "Good." He grasped her wrist tighter as he healed her and marked her as a knight. "Go find Meg, she's my other knight. We'll have a meeting once the two you have become acquainted."

"Dean, why me?" she wanted to know.

It was a shitty way of apologizing for not caring enough to try harder to save her, but it was the best he could do. So, he grinned. "Who else, Bela?"

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Time in hell flew a lot faster when you weren't the one on the rack, Dean quickly found out, and it was decades of hell time later, Dean found himself blowing out a breath as he glared at Crowley. "I don't give two shakes of a rat's ass, Crowley. You either accept my terms or I find another salesman for the job."

"Damn it, Dean, how am I supposed to work with this? You're limiting my number of deals now? _And _you're adding an age limit?"

Dean looked at him with a bored expression. The age limit thing had been Bela's idea. After all, it wasn't everyone that took a crossroads deal as a child. Granted, he totally got it, and in her position, he probably would have done the same thing, but still, he wanted to respect her wishes. "Eighteen years old, Crowley. No younger."

"What are we supposed to do? Look at their fucking driver's license, Dean?"

Dean blinked and remained silent.

"Fuck. Bollocks. Fucking wanker…" Crowley muttered as he walked out of Dean's office, slamming the door shut in his wake.

Dean grinned. _Ahhh, I love pissing him off first thing in the morning. Almost makes Hell worth living in…_He chuckled under his breath. He was feeling good today. His life wasn't normal, or _good, _particularly, but it was nice being in charge.

"Can I help you with anything else, your highness?" he heard from the door to the bedroom.

He shook his head and winked at the buxom blonde. "Nah, take off, Cherry. I've got a busy day."

She pouted overly injected lips, apparently her meatsuit was the Hollywood type, but sauntered over to him. She smelled like sex, cheap booze, and daddy issues. Three of his favorite flavors. "Call me, sugar," she purred.

He pulled her down for a kiss. "Absolutely." He watched her walk out and rolled his eyes. Who knew demon chicks were so eager to bang the head honcho?

Another knock sounded on his door and he yelled out a quick "Come in!" before his head bent down to look at the statistics. Crowley may have been a douche, but the guy had an eye for business. He'd had Hell running quite efficiently before he'd been usurped by Abaddon. Dean had been trying to straighten out things for an eternity it seemed, down here. He was exhausted.

"God, it smells like sex in here. Perhaps you should fumigate," Bela stated in her dry tone as she perched on the chair across from Dean. "You didn't do her on _this_ chair, did you?"

Dean smirked. "Nah, we used the couch."

Bela shivered and her nose scrunched in distaste. "Must you bang every demon whore that wants a piece of your cock?"

His eyebrow rose. "Are you pissed because I ain't doing you, sweetcheeks?" He had decided to keep his two knights off limits. Meg didn't have a problem with it. She had other irons in the fire. Dean wasn't one hundred percent certain it _wasn't _Castiel, but he didn't ask. She had come back from earth a time or two smelling particularly sweet, so she was either banging the angel, or she had her hands on a baker. That was, however, not his business, but Meg's. Bela, however, hadn't appreciated the rule he'd adamantly enforced.

She shot him a look. "Hardly. Do you know how many demons want a piece of this lovely arse?"

He looked her up and down. She had kept her original meatsuit. He, personally, had gone with her to retrieve it and give it an overhaul since it had been rotting in a casket for a few years. Meg had gone and found hers as well. He'd wondered why they were attached to them, but figured it was just something about the individual. He, himself, couldn't smoke out. It was the only thing he wasn't able to do. It didn't matter to him, though, he found the whole process to be a bit rapey. Seeing other people wearing demons had taught him that one. Of course, Bela, as well as Meg's meatsuits were vacant and rotting, so he hadn't minded them wearing them so much.

"Are you going to stare at me all afternoon?" Bela bit out.

His eyebrow rose. "You're in a chipper mood today, Bela. What's new?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired of dealing with incompetent arseholes."

He shrugged. "Send them to Meg to be tortured. They'll straighten up."

"It would be easier if we could give them something they wanted."

"We are in Hell, doll. I'm pretty sure the description doesn't lead to giving them what they want. They can piss and moan all they want. We're doing things my way. Period. End of story."

She blew out a breath. "Fine. I wanted to ask if you've given any thought to the new rules I've decreed."

He nodded. "I have. I agree to all of them except one. If someone comes down here based on a crossroads deal, I demand you look over their list of crimes. I don't want them tortured as severely as the others if they aren't due it. The punishment needs to fit the crime, if you catch my drift. Put them in the waiting room Crowley built. That's torture enough."

"But, Dean…"

"It's decided," he ground out. Running Hell was most definitely a dictatorship. If you gave anyone an inch, they stomped their nasty boots all over you. He was king for a damn reason.

She stood abruptly. "Very well."

"Bela," his voice was so soft, she looked at him in surprise. "Look, I know you didn't get a fair shake. Can't you see, I'm just trying to do better by everyone else?"

"Human emotions will not get you anywhere down here, Dean. Haven't you learned that?"

But, he _did_ have human emotions, at least, the memories of them. It made him as different from the rest as his powers did. "I'm not like you or the others, Bela. You know that."

Her face softened. "I know, Dean. It's one of the things I tolerate about you the most."

He chuckled. "I knew you loved me, B. Now get out there and do your work."

* * *

Time was funny. It trickled away from you in a blink of an eye, even down in Hell, where Dean was now getting quite comfortable as the ruler. He hadn't been keeping up with the time, but he believed he had been ruler for about a year of earth's time. Maybe it was more, maybe it was less, he wasn't sure. He hadn't popped topside in a while. There was so much work to do, he had to fight to find time to visit with Cas, which he did, on occasion.

He heard a sharp rap at the door and looked up from the report Crowley had given him with a grin. Limey little shit _still_ wasn't thrilled to be demoted, but when you've got more juice than him, well, Abaddon didn't have anything on Dean's powers, and Crowley was, after all, little more than a coward.

Meg walked in with a grin. "Hey, Deano."

He rolled his eyes but smiled. He had made a wise choice in choosing Meg as one of his Knights. He liked the little broad. "What's up?" he asked.

She shrugged and plopped down in the chair across from him. "Not much. I went topside and checked on Sam, just like you asked."

That had been forever ago, it seemed, in hell-time, anyway, but he knew she had been quite busy. She'd had to set up her dominance in the torture chambers. It had been…interesting, watching her work. He knew, if she had dealt with him on the racks, he would have broken a hell of a lot faster than the thirty years it took Alistair to break him. She was the most sadistic bitch he'd ever come across. It was awesome to watch. "How did it go?"

She shrugged again. "He was less than thrilled to see me for some reason, but he says hello." She paused and when he went back to his paperwork, she asked, "Who's the sweet little homeslice he's shacking up with?"

Dean's head popped up quickly. "What?"

"Dean, where have you been?"

"In Hell," he deadpanned. "What do you mean, he's shacking up with someone?" He had just sent her to check in with his brother. This was a new development. The last he had heard, Cas had sent him up to South Dakota to visit Ryan and Jody for a few days. God, he hadn't hooked up with Jody, had he? Not that the sheriff wasn't nice and all, but, she was older than them. Wasn't she? Odd, now that he thought about it, he didn't know how old Jody was. She was just so motherly, it felt like she was older than them. It was possible she was the same age as he would have been.

She shrugged again. "Some hunter chick, I guess. Sam introduced us, though, so she didn't feel the need to ice me with that handy little knife you boys play with, not that it would kill me anyway, so that was something."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused. Sam had moved in with someone? Why hadn't Cas thought to tell him? Of course, Dean had been busy down here, but still, he figured it would have made news. He saw Cas often enough. It seemed as though Heaven wanted a more active role in how Hell was running, which, hey, if he dealt with Cas, it wasn't so bad. He didn't mind sending them reports. It gave him a chance to act normal for a few hours at least as he and Cas discussed otherworldly events.

"Sam. Is shacked up. With some babe. Honestly, if I were into chicks, I'd do her. She's gorgeous. Got a couple of kids, too, which is weird, but like I said…hunter. Huntress? What do they like to be called?"

Dean had a sense of foreboding settling somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. "What was her name?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"How many kids?"

"Two, no, three. Two little guys, cute little shits, if you like kids, older girl who let me tell you, looked like she could fuck me up if I let her."

"Names," he repeated angrily. It couldn't be _her _could it? He could see the fear in Meg's eyes. Good. Damn demon needed to start giving him some fucking information.

"The woman had a guy's name. Riley? Ripley? Reagan?"

"Ryan?" Dean asked softly.

"Yeah! That's it. She seemed like someone you wouldn't want to mess with despite having a kid on her hip. Couldn't help but notice Sam was letting her carry the demon knife on her side. Looked like Mama Rambo. Man, was she hot. Like I said, I stick to guys, but I'd play for the other side if you'd let me have some time off and she didn't freak at the thought of being alone with me. I kinda got the impression she didn't like demons…"

Dean didn't hear another word as he closed his eyes and imagined himself outside Ryan's house. He heard sounds coming from the back yard and when he walked around the house, he could see a family playing in the yard, a family that wasn't Ryan or her kids. _Where are they?! _he thought bitterly before he winked away to the bunker. He hadn't been back there since he'd gone to Hell with Crowley after waking up dead.

"They aren't here at the bunker, Dean," Meg said fearfully on a whisper as she appeared next to him. "They've got a house in town."

"Show me," he demanded roughly and she grasped his arm, pulling him to the location through their form of transportation.

The house was a two story number, big and sprawling, secure enough because he could feel the wardings around it. They wouldn't keep him out, nor his two knights, but any other demon couldn't break through. And if Sam were living here, none of the lesser demons would mess with Sammy because they knew how badly Dean would fuck them up if they tried. Granted, there were some who wished to usurp him from the throne, but they would never go after Sam. That was asking for a death worse than even demons could imagine.

Dean's hearing was sharp and he heard the sounds of the television playing some cartoon, he could hear Hope humming from one of the upstairs bedrooms, and could hear…his dead heart clenched as he heard Sam and Ryan in the kitchen. He moved to the back of the house and could see them through the sliding glass door.

"So," Ryan was saying, "I got the stain out of your white dress shirt."

"You're a miracle worker, Ry."

She let out a snort. "Well, I can't have my subordinate federal agent looking like a slob, now can I? However, next time you want a salad with French dressing, wear a damn bib, Sammy."

He shot her the bitch face and looked back at the tablet in his hand. "So, get this…I don't think that Wendigo in Wichita is a Wendigo."

She let out a grunt as she stood on tiptoe just inside the small pantry door. "Well, what the fuck is it? Damn it. Hey, Samsquatch, come help me!" Ryan called as she tried to reach something.

Sam chuckled and stood from where he was sitting at the kitchen table to stretch around her, brushing up against her intimately to reach something from the top shelf of the pantry. "Here, Shorty."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned. "You love me."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, I'm actually fairly tall for a woman, Sam. It isn't my fault you're a giant. Next time you put away the groceries, put them where I can reach them."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He paused and grinned. "You know, it seems as though your two little guys will be taller than you. Hope's already on her way."

Her face softened. "I think so, too. Unfortunately, I think I'm going to be the shortest one of all of you."

"Eh, well, it could always be worse."

She turned then to the stove to stir something and asked, "So, if the Wendigo in Wichita isn't a Wendigo, what is it?"

"I don't know. All my research leads me to believe it's a hoax."

"You want to take Hope out on a little field trip? Let her stretch her legs?"

His tone held nothing but surprise. "You want me to take her?"

She smiled tenderly. "Sam, I trust you implicitly, you know this. I trust you with my life, her life, the boy's lives. Of course she can go with you."

"It could be a shifter," he warned.

She nodded. "I know. But I've let her stay too safe. She needs experience. She's a teenager now, or almost, in any case, older than you were when you first started hunting. She's better trained than either of us was when we started. Anything I lacked in her training, you've made up for in the past few months. If it's a shifter, let's let her see if she can handle it." She paused. "As long as you can protect her."

"You know I can," he stated gently. "I love those kids more than my own life, Ryan. You know I do."

She nodded. "Alright. Let's let her spread her wings."

He snorted in what Dean figured was an inside joke and said, "She'll be thrilled as all hell, you know that, right?"

She walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm in a way that didn't seem remotely innocent to Dean. "We love you, Sam. All of us. You're the best thing that's happened to me and the kids in a long time."

Dean felt rage like he hadn't felt since before The Mark had turned him into a demon. "Meg," he managed and she grasped his arm, forcing him back, driving him back to hell where he let that rage go in a grand display of destroying anything and everything in his path…the souls on the racks were never tortured worse than they were that day.

* * *

**AN2: PLEASE reserve hate until you know the whole story. Trust me, everything makes sense eventually. And right now, you're ONLY seeing Dean's side of things. Bear that in mind before you break out the pitchforks, kay? **

**Love you all! See you next week! **


	8. The River and The Highway

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Supernatural. Still really wish I did...**

**AN: Hey! So...I lost a follower last week. LOL. Still not getting any more reviews. Such is life. I guess I'm writing for me and my one lovely reviewer. But I'm still posting. Hope those of you lurkers out there are enjoying it! More notes at the bottom...**

**TRIGGERS: Mentions of rape, LOTS of torture later down, and...I think that's it for now. Next chapter will have more warnings. **

* * *

He hadn't processed the fact Sam was shacked up with Ryan very well and he was still pissed over it months later in earth time as he made his way north for his meeting with Castiel…

"Cas, man, how's tricks?" Dean greeted the angel as he slid into the booth for their quarterly meeting. They had taken to meeting every few months to discuss peace. Really, it was a chance for Dean to come topside and visit with his friend and pretend to be normal for a few hours. Occasionally it worked, usually, though it just made him realize how different he really was now from who he used to be.

The two had become well known in the small diner. They always met there. The accountant ordered coffee he didn't drink, and the mechanic ordered coffee and the pie special of the day. All the waitresses knew, and they didn't question it since the mechanic always left really good tips and the two never caused trouble.

Dean smiled at the waitress as she sat down a piece of blueberry pie and his coffee. Since becoming a demon, food didn't quite taste the same and he didn't actually have a craving for anything, nor need to eat, for that matter, but he liked to keep up appearances. And, hell, Hope had been right. Sometimes you just needed pie.

Castiel looked at him oddly. "Everything is fine, Dean. How are the souls in hell?"

"Dead," Dean deadpanned as he lifted the fork to his mouth. "Great pie today, ladies!" he called. He turned back to Cas. "Tortured," he continued. "Making Meg the Mistress of Tortures was the best damn idea I've ever had. She loves it, really gets off on other people's pain. She's an awesome sadist. Wish I had known her as a human. Bet she would have really enjoyed bondage and shit."

Castiel cleared his throat and remained silent.

"You know, she's still got a 'thang' for you, Cas."

Cas just looked at him and Dean smiled. He was still waiting for conformation the two had been cavorting but he wouldn't tease them about it until he had proof. "Well, just thought I'd throw it out there. Hey, a demon and an angel? Just call the relationship 'holy hell' and be done with it."

"Dean, are we going to discuss business, or are you still attempting to get me laid?"

Dean laughed out loud. Yeah, he still liked the guy. He was awesome, even if they were farther apart than they'd ever been. And clearly someone had been talking to the angel, because he sounded a bit less stuffy than usual. That was…good, he guessed. Which led him to the real reason for wanting to meet up so soon after their last meeting; "So, speaking of sex…heard Sam was shacking up with Ryan permanently now?"

Castiel blinked. "Ah, yes, Ryan Fawcett and her children. They are amazing, really."

"Yeah, she is," Dean stated offhandedly. "Heard her cousin had another one. Can't believe she saddled her with a third kid."

Cas looked confused, so Dean went on. "I mean, really, can't the dumb bitch keep her legs closed or what? What the fuck is she? A damn brood mare putting it out there for the stud horse? Is she like a dog in heat or something?"

Castiel cleared his throat again. "Dean, I'm not really comfortable talking about this…"

Dean shrugged. "What's the big deal, Cas? Okay, so, Sam's got my sloppy seconds. Good for him. Little weird, but, hey, he's always been weird. At least she's not a demon or a werewolf. She's still human, isn't she?"

Cas' brow's knit. "Yes, Ryan is…human."

Dean nodded. "Good. So, I guess I'm happy for him. I mean, he's got a family. Guess he's like, a _dad _and shit now, huh?"

Cas' was starting to look constipated. He looked so uncomfortable and confused. "Dean…"

Dean held up a hand. "Say no more. It's none of my business. Hey, I'm the thing she's terrified of." It bothered him how _much _it bothered him to realize that, as well. "Just, uh, just let her and Sammy both know I'm happy for them, okay? And, uh, let her know I swear safety for her and the kids. No demon will make a deal with them or touch them. Forget the fact Sam's living with them. I mean, hell, he's not the best with relationships, so, even if they break up or something, I will still keep her safe." It was the best he could do. He had the power now. No other demons would fuck with her. He'd make sure everyone knew she was off limits. She'd seen and done enough shit with demons before. She didn't need any more.

"Dean, I never thought otherwise."

"Good."

They were both silent for a few moments. "So, uh…"

Castiel looked at him, his bright blue eyes burning with questions, his head cocked to the side like a damn golden retriever. "Yes?"

Dean blinked and shook his head. He didn't need to ask anymore damn question about Ryan. What difference did it matter to him now? None. Nope, her life wasn't his business. It never was, never would be. "Nothing. How are things on earth? Monsters bad? Anything out of the ordinary since I'm keeping things locked up downstairs?"

Cas shook his head. "No, things seem to be going quite well. Earth has monsters, yes, but nothing Sam and their hunters can't take care of."

"Their hunters?"

Cas nodded. "Sam has taken a more leadership role in the Men of Letters, as has Ryan. Truthfully, Sam is hunting less and less as he's become the authority figure in the occult."

"Sammy's the new Bobby?" Dean smiled at that. If anyone should be, it should be Sam. He never wanted to be a hunter. This…this was probably the best Sam was going to get.

"Yes. If Sam _does _go hunting, usually he takes Ryan or Hope with him."

"Hope's old enough to hunt?"

"Indeed. As a matter of fact, Ryan took Hope on her first hunt a few months ago. They're gone now while Sam looks after the boys." The angel smiled. "I have to admit, seeing your brother with the two little ones is quite humorous. From what I hear, his first diaper changing experience was interesting."

Dean smiled despite himself. Sam always wanted a normal life. It was good; the kid seemed to be finally getting that very thing. "That's cool. How old are the kids now?"

"Bobby is almost four and Jon is almost two years old."

"John?" _Did_ _Sam insist the kid be named after our dad?_

"Jonathan," Cas corrected. "Though, we usually call him Jon."

"Did Ryan name him, too? I mean, she named Bobby." He wasn't sure why he wanted to know, but he was still fascinated by the woman. She was an enigma he would never manage to solve. Maybe that was why he still had a desire for her when he didn't for other human women. He stuck to demon chicks now simply because they were sturdier and they were a means to an end. He didn't have an emotional attachment to them. He just fucked them and sent them on their merry little ways.

"Technically, Hope named Bobby," Castiel amended, "But, yes, Ryan named him. She asked Sam if he wanted to, but he declined the offer."

Dean blinked in surprise. _Sam's been with her, with her, this whole time? _He wanted to ask more, but he couldn't. Not now. It was hurting him in a way he hadn't realized his dead, unfeeling heart could hurt. "Cool. So, Ryan's hunting? Even with the kids?"

"Hope is of the age to hunt," he said simply, as if that made it all okay. "Ryan had wanted to wait until Jonathan turned a year old, but Sam insisted she needed to go out and kill something before she killed one of them."

Dean chuckled. That sounded like Sam. And Ryan, actually. She was a force to be reckoned with, he knew from personal experience. "Sounds like a good idea."

Castiel nodded. "She is one of the most lethal women I have come upon. I am quite glad she was indisposed at the time…if she had been hunting angels with you and Sam, she would have wiped out our whole species. As it is, you do not want to mess with her. We are having angels train with them now so they know how to handle a rogue attack. It's…fascinating, truly." He paused and smiled. "She was quite ready for the hunt as well. She had not had the opportunity to hunt in a while. She is rectifying that situation now."

"Well…good for her."

Cas nodded. "They also have taken in a young woman, another hunter. Sam said you knew her. Krissy Chambers?"

Dean smiled as he thought of the little spitfire. "Yeah, I know her. How did they wind up with her?"

"Sam found her injured on a hunt a few months ago. She called one of your old telephone numbers. He brought her back home and Ryan has taken her in, I suppose."

"She loves taking in strays, doesn't she?"

Castiel smiled. "Indeed. Quite a few now, I suppose. Luckily her house is so big. She has two other…for lack of a better word, foster children in her care as well. She's a good woman. She has been through so much. It is no wonder heaven has taken a liking to her. She will be richly rewarded for her good deeds on earth."

"That's…nice." _What do you say to follow that up?_

Cas glanced at the clock on the wall. "I am sorry, Dean, I need to go. Hannah has a meeting scheduled I can't be late for."

"Sure, Cas. Thanks, man, for everything."

"Sam misses you," Cas stated as he stood. "He would love to see you."

"Yeah, no, I don't think that would be good," Dean told him as he, too, stood, and threw some money on the table.

They walked out of the café together. Cas stopped him with a hand on his arm. "He has forgiven you for what you said in the warehouse. He knows that wasn't you, reacting that way."

"Cas, man…" He couldn't. He had made his decision. He would stay out of Sam's life permanently. It wouldn't do for him to be near his brother. He would _not _be the reason Sam strayed back to the evil side of things. He would _not _be the reason his brother fell off the demon juice wagon.

"Just think about it, Dean. You know the two of you don't do well separate."

"We couldn't be more separate if we tried. I don't want what I am to influence him into doing something wrong, Cas."

"You are a demon, Dean, but that is not the only thing you are." Cas paused. "Think about it."

He turned and in a flutter of wings, he was gone.

_I'm a demon, isn't that the only thing? _Dean frowned and focused his energy, returning to hell.

When he got back downstairs, he felt listless. It wasn't a feeling he was used to. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but he did. He was…melancholy.

"Heya, boss. What's the matter with you?" Meg inquired when he walked down the torture corridor.

He shrugged.

She smirked. "Say…I know you aren't, like, quite as evil as I am…"

His eyes narrowed and he growled under his breath.

She smiled. "_Buuuuut _I wonder if maybe you just need to get in touch with your evil side a little bit."

His eyebrow rose. "What do you mean?"

She smiled. "I got you a present."

He eyed her warily. "What?"

She grasped his hand. "Come with me, I'll show you."

He rolled his eyes and half smirked as he followed her into the room. There were three demons strung up along the walls. "What do you want me to do with them?"

She grinned. "Happy un-birthday, Dean."

He blinked. "Meg, I'm dead. I don't celebrate birthdays anymore."

She rolled her eyes. "Hence the 'un' at the beginning. Come on. I got these three strung up just for your entertainment."

"And why would I want these three?"

She leaned in a little closer and he did, too, as she lowered her voice. "Look, boss, a little birdy told me I needed to look for the one in the middle, the leader, then I found his two henchmen. The birdy told me to tell you to fuck them up."

"Why should I? Who are they?"

"Well, the two minions are Bob and Dan, but the one in the middle, the ringleader, his name is Raeburn."

Dean's eyes flashed black. "What?"

She smiled. "I heard you had a beef with him, or rather, that a friend of yours did."

He grasped Meg's throat and pushed her into the wall. She winced, but held her own as she stared defiantly at him.

"Who? Who told you?"

"Sam," she gasped.

He let her go as if she'd burned him. "Ryan told _Sam_?"

She blinked. "What?"

He wasn't sure why he felt so betrayed. She'd never told anyone about that, not all of it, anyway, about what those demons did to her that night, what its name was. But now she was opening up to _Sam _about it? _Well, they're together, aren't they, Dean_?

"Dean, Sam said Jody told him you had a beef with the guy. Said he'd hurt someone you know. He didn't give me any more information than that."

Dean's eyes blinked back to their usual green. "Jody told him?" He wasn't sure why that made it better, that Ryan had confided in Jody instead of Sam. Of course she would tell her best friend.

"Dean, is this…is it not okay?"

He smirked. "It's fine. This is a great gift, Meg. I will enjoy this immensely."

He looked at the two minions on either side of Raeburn. "I want to take care of them first, make him watch, make him anticipate what's coming."

She giggled and clapped her hands like a child. "Can I watch? Please?"

He grinned as his eyes flashed black once more and he picked up a knife. "With pleasure."

* * *

He spent ten years working on the first demon. If anyone needed anything from the king of hell, they had to ask Meg or Bela, as they were the only two allowed to interrupt him. The day the little shit broke, all of his information came gushing from him.

"Alright!" the demon screamed as Dean sliced into him with the knife dipped in holy water. "I'll talk!"

Dean smiled, stepped back, crossed his arms and waited. "Okay, Bob, speak."

The demon licked his lips and panted. "O-okay, so, we were sent as part of a hit squad."

"Shut up!" Dan growled from across the way but Dean's eyes narrowed and he rendered the other demon mute.

"No, Bob is talking now. When it's your turn, don't worry, I'll get other truths from you." He turned back to Bob. "Go on."

"That's all I know! We were part of a hit squad. Raeburn said it was easy work, said we could have some fun. Me an' Rae an' Dan like little girls…"

Dean's face turned into a disgusted sneer. "Is that a fact?" His eyes narrowed. "Well, you know what? I like little bitches, and hey, what do you know? I'm staring at one right now."

The demon cowered against his restraints. "N-No! No more! I…I don't know anything else!"

"You know what you did to those little girls. You know what you did to Ryan."

"Who?"

"The last little girl you raped, you bastard."

"Man, she was just a number! She won't nothing special!

Dean's eyes flashed. "Oh, that was the wrong thing to say…" he growled as he attacked once more.

Once he finished, the demon was in a weeping puddle. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Dean," Meg called his name softly.

Dean looked up at her and she laid a hand on his arm.

"I think you're done."

He smiled evilly. "I'm just getting started." But he stepped back. "Talk _more_."

The demon nodded. "We were supposed to kill the family. The woman, she was friends with Mary Winchester. Azazel said all her friends had to die. We were supposed to kill them all. We decided to have some…fun along the way. We were doing good, but we got caught. That damn Bobby Singer caught me and exorcized me. I got down here, Azazel tortured me. Now you're torturing me. That's all, I swear!"

Dean believed him. After what he'd just done to the creature, what he had _been _doing to him, he had to believe him. Why would he lie after all of that? "Take him to the lowest levels," he ordered a new demon that had come in to speak to Meg.

"Boss, you're late for your meeting with Cas…" Meg began.

"Cancel it," Dean growled as he walked over to Dan. "This is going to take a while."

The demon's face was a mask of fear as Dean smiled. "What do you say, Dan? Do you think I can break you faster?"

"What do you want me to tell Cas?" Meg asked.

Dean glowered at her. "Tell him I'm fucking busy. I'll be with him eventually."

Meg opened her mouth to speak, but just shook her head. "Okay, Dean."

The second demon, he spent twenty years with. He cracked quicker, but Dean was enjoying himself too much to stop. Finally, when the demon was beaten down about as far as he could go, Dean stepped back. "Talk," he demanded.

"There was a prophecy!"

Dean's brows furrowed. "A prophecy about what?"

"N-Not what, who. The bitch we did last. Ryan Fawcett."

"What about her?"

The demon panted in pain. "A-Azazel said there was a prophecy about her."

Dean sliced him across his chest. "What did it say?"

"I, uh, I don't know word for word! Something about her being the mother of the one true king of hell!"

Dean almost stumbled back. "What?"

The demon nodded emphatically. "Yeah. That, in addition to being the daughter of Mary Winchester's friend, left her with a mark on her head from all of hell itself. She was supposed to be killed so it didn't screw with Azazel's plans for a king to be made with his blood."

"What difference does that make?"

"If a king is born, it can't be usurped. The children Azazel was creating would never be that strong."

"The cambion, the half human/half demon, the kid, Jesse, is that why Lilith wanted him so bad?"

The demon shook his head. "He still wouldn't be as strong as the one true king. He was to be a knight of hell, if we found him and could convince Cain to mark him."

"One true king? Ryan? Why her?"

"I don't know!" the demon wailed. "But with that prophecy and the fact she was Mary Winchester's friend's daughter, of course, she was to be tortured and killed. It was a direct order, one we disobeyed. I was tortured by Alistair on Azazel's commands for disobeying it. I let her live and was exorcized by John Winchester that night."

Dean was still reeling from these revelations. Of course, if Ryan couldn't have kids, she couldn't produce the true king of hell. So, in a way, these monsters had done exactly what they'd set out to do, hadn't they? "Take him away to join his friend," Dean stated coldly. He would have to see if Raeburn knew anything more about this so-called prophecy, or if the last one was just blowing smoke. But first…time for some fun.

Dean smiled coldly as he sidled up to Raeburn, slipping on the glove as he did so. "Heard you like to fuck little girls, you sick bastard."

Raeburn eyed him coolly. "Heard you like my sloppy seconds, my king."

Dean slapped his face with the special glove he was wearing. It had razor blades on it, so the slap cut the demon's face almost into ribbons. "You think you're being funny, but what you're really doing, is just pissing me the fuck off."

"Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean, you were so very cute when you were a boy. You had no idea what you would become, did you? You had no idea you would become the thing you most despise. And now, look at you. Torturing souls for pleasure."

Dean smiled. "Oh, I'm getting pleasure out of it. Too much pleasure. I'm going to enjoy fucking you up so bad, you won't be able to wisp around for a century. Of earth time."

"Promises, promises," the demon taunted.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he began to work.

* * *

Decades later, Dean took a deep breath as he walked out of the room. "Dean? You okay?"

He glanced at Meg, and Bela, as she walked up also, and nodded. "I'm great, Meg." He hadn't broken Raeburn, not exactly. Not that it mattered, the guy was worthy of the torture. He refused to break, no matter what Dean did to him. Dean did manage to find out he was just a flunky for Azazel, but Dean had the feeling that was just because Raeburn wanted to talk. It made him angry, how he talked about Ryan, and Dean could have sworn the demon got off on Dean's torturing of him.

When Raeburn _did_ talk about Ryan, it was about the prophecy. And it was one hell of a doozy. Words like "mother of true evil" and "Goddess of heaven and hell" sounded a bit ominous to Dean. Luckily none of it seemed to be true, at least, not now. Ryan couldn't have kids, so, she couldn't produce the true heir of hell, then, could she? Because if she had, Dean would be forced to kill it. He couldn't let a monster rule hell. He had to protect the delicate balance he and Cas had set up. However, it would be a good idea to checking into.

Of course, talking, telling Dean what he wanted to know, didn't give Raeburn a pass. No, this was the demon that destroyed Ryan. For that alone, he would pay for eternity. "I want him kept on the rack for me. Move him to a special room."

"A…special room?"

Dean's grin was slightly sadistic. "Yeah. I'm going to fuck with him a little bit more."

Meg smiled. "You do me proud, boss."

He rolled his eyes. The fact remained, though, he still hadn't gotten anything concrete about the prophecy out of Raeburn, just what the other demon had said, and most of those supposed 'facts' were based on assumptions Azazel had told them. He contemplated going to find Azazel, but he wasn't entirely sure he could trust himself around the demon. After all, Azazel was responsible for killing his mother, turning Sam into a demon-blood drinking lush, and having Ryan raped and tortured then possessed. No, he couldn't handle seeing Azazel. He thought a moment. "Say, Meg, do you know anything about these prophecies those three were talking about?"

She shrugged. "I've heard them for centuries."

"Where do I find out about them?"

She winced. "Not even Azazel knew all about them, or if he did, he didn't tell me. That was a long time ago, Dean."

"But if I didn't want to talk to old Yellow Eyes? Meg, I can't handle being around him. Give me Alistair, I could fuck him up, but Azazel…He's done too much to my family."

"I get it, Dean. I really do." She thought a moment. "There is only one creature that actually knows what the prophecies say. They were brought down from heaven."

His eyes flashed. "You don't mean…"

She nodded. "Yep. You want the truth, you'll have to go to the devil himself."

"Fuck," Dean muttered. He hadn't been down to the cage, he couldn't bring himself to see where they'd held Sam captive, couldn't stand the taunting he felt sure Michael and Lucifer would give him, couldn't handle the thoughts that his other brother might be in there, suffering. He hadn't…forgotten Adam, he had just chosen not to remember him.

"Dean, you aren't actually thinking of going _down _there, are you? Do you know what those two angels are doing down there?"

He winced. He honestly didn't have a fucking clue what the two brothers were doing locked in the cage. He didn't want to know, but he didn't really have a choice, did he? "I don't want to, but I need to know. If there is something happening topside with Ryan…Sam's in that house. I have to protect Sammy."

Bela let out a snort. "Always 'protect Sammy'. Aren't you exhausted yet? Aren't you utterly tired of having that clichéd way of thinking?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "It's none of your business, Bela."

She held up both hands. "Whatever, Dean. I'm not your mother."

He squared his shoulders. "Okay, I'm going down there. You two, stay here, keep up with shit. I'll…be back when I can."

"You want me to get Cas to go with you?" Meg asked softly.

"I'm the king of hell, Meg. I think I can handle this. They're locked in a cage for crying out loud. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure. You couldn't pay me all the souls in hell or all the money in the world to go down there."

Yeah, he felt the same, but he had to know. "I'll be back eventually."

"I'm giving you a time limit, Dean. Those two…they're powerful, much more powerful than you, even in the cage. They can't escape it, but they can fuck with your head."

"I'm well aware of what they're capable of. I've been fucked over by archangels before."

"And if they decided to…?"

"Meg, enough. I'll be fine."

"You're a damned fool, Dean Winchester," Bela stated.

He shrugged. "Ain't nothing new, sweetheart, that's just how I roll." He looked at his two knights and smiled. "Come on, they're locked up! They can't escape, I'm sure they've tried."

"Be careful," Meg implored.

He nodded. "I will."

The bowels of hell were where the cage was located and it was a trek to get there. He briefly wondered how Cas managed to find the cage to let Sam out, but then he remembered Cas was in cahoots with Crowley at the time, so he had no doubts the demon let the angel in. Of course, how he managed to get into and out of the cage, he would have to ask Cas about sometime. Though, Sam was a human soul, and human souls weren't meant for the cage, just like in Purgatory, so he supposed it was easier to get Sam out than he realized.

He turned the corner and heard Lucifer singing "Stairway to Heaven" as loud as he could while Michael was grounding out an interesting version of "Bohemian Rhapsody". Dean rolled his eyes. _They really are little more than children in the cage at this point in time_, Dean thought. "Will you two shut the fuck up so we can talk?!" Dean shouted.

Both voices stopped as he approached. "Well, well, well, little Dean's a demon. How does that make you feel, Michael? Your meatsuit has joined my team."

Dean scowled. "I've not joined your team, Lucifer, you dick, I'm just here for information."

"Oh, goodie. We never get visitors," Lucifer said as he came closer to the bars. From Dean's perspective, it looked like a jail cell in a western movie with bars on it, but the bars were lit with holy fire. Interesting. Apparently the fire never died out because there was a river of liquid magma pouring to a crevice that fed the flames. Cool. That shit was like something out of some sci-fi movie. Awesome.

"Are you interested in examining our cell, or did you require something of us?" Michael asked in a bored voice as he, too, approached.

Dean smiled. "Looks like you'd be glad to have any version of company, Mike."

"Do _not _call me Mike."

"Why not, Mikey?" Lucifer giggled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up, _Luci_," Dean intoned. "I need information. I didn't come down to hear you two bicker like an old married couple."

"Oh, well, maybe we can work out a deal," Lucifer stated. "I'm sure I know something I can trade you for time out of this cell…"

"Please. If he were going to let anyone out, it's me. I haven't done anything wrong!"

"As if your wings were white as the snow, Mike."

"Actually…"

"Both of you shut the fuck up!" Dean growled. "I'm not making any deals, I just figured you'd want to talk, and I have questions."

"About?"

"Prophecies."

"Why don't you ask your little angel friend, Castiel? He could help."

Dean glowered at Michael. "Because I'm not asking him, I'm asking you two twats."

"Oooh, he's cursing me. I'm scared," Lucifer taunted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I just spent thirty years torturing two demons for information. Then I fucked over their leader for a couple decades more. One told me I needed to come and talk to you." It wasn't exactly the truth, but it was close enough. "Do you know anything about the prophecy about the boy king or not?"

Lucifer smiled. "Ahhhh, _that _prophecy. Well, well, well, has it come to pass?"

"No, it hasn't, for your information. I just wanted to know if you knew it. It won't happen now, anyway. The supposed mother of the boy king can't have kids, douche, so it won't happen."

Lucifer smiled. "Ah, that's what you think. And isn't that cute, you believe that drivel? It's a _prophecy, _dipshit. Of course it's going to come to pass."

"But, that's impossible!"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "You thought it was impossible for Sam to say 'yes' to me, but he did."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Look, asshat, Sam did that because he knew he could lock your ass back in this cage. And guess what? He did. So shove that up your ass."

Michael was applauding quietly at Dean's outburst. "Bravo, Dean. You're as articulate as I anticipated."

"Yeah, well, fuck you, too, Michael," Dean shot at him. The two angels looked at him and he sighed. "Can't you please just give me the information? I'm not going to let your asses out of the cage, you know that, right?"

They both nodded.

"So, can't you give me what I want to know?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Lucifer started.

"Oh, come on, for Dad's sake, Lucifer, give the man the information. What difference does it make?" Michael sounded exasperated. Yeah, well, that was how Dean felt, so…

"I'm building up to it! Can't you let me have any fun?"

"No."

Dean held in a smile at the two of them. They acted like kids in time-out or something.

Lucifer sighed. "Fine." He cleared his throat and recited, "Forged in fire, tested, tempted, and tried, the mother will be of a pure heart and a clear mind, seduced by the demon that sneaks into her heart, and thus, the child shall be born."

"Where does it say who the person is?"

Lucifer smiled. "Ah, well, that's up to interpretation."

"Azazel supposedly thought it was someone in particular. Why?"

The two angels behind the bars shared a look. Michael rolled his eyes. Lucifer's grin was wicked. "Well, that's because I told him who it was."

"And how did _you _know?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I just knew."

"And now?"

The angel's smile grew. "And now I'm sure of it."

Dean clenched his jaw. "You're lying. Ryan can't have kids because of what Azazel's henchmen did to her."

"Miracles _do _happen," Lucifer told him.

"Yeah. Crowley thought _I_ was one. Look what happened."

Michael chuckled under his breath. "Well, Dean, I have to admit, you have a point there."

"Is my brother in there with you?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Castiel got him out, Dean, you know this. Sam is safe and secure topside, not to worry."

"Not him."

Michael smiled a genuine smile. "I let him go as we fell, Dean. He was returned to heaven. He was never in here. His body is buried where the hole was, when we fell into the cage."

"You swear, angel?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Michael stated drolly.

Dean turned to Lucifer. "Is he telling the truth?"

Lucifer put a hand to his chest. "You're asking me to tell the truth? How funny, asking _the devil _if he's being truthful. Hilarious. But yes, he actually is telling the truth."

"So, you could have let Sam go whenever you fell?" Dean asked with narrowed eyes.

"Of course, I _could _have, I suppose. However, I am not as nice as my brothers. Didn't you know that?"

"I was aware," Dean told him in a flat tone. "So, what about the prophecy?"

"I'm bored now," Lucifer whined before he started singing "Party in the U.S.A."

Michael rolled his eyes. "When Miley's deal comes due, send her to us, _please, _so I can torture her personally."

Dean chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. You wanna take Bieber, too?"

"Oh, yes, that would be quite a lot of fun."

Dean shook his head. "Well, thanks for nothing, you two."

He started to walk away when the singing stopped and Lucifer shouted, "It isn't as bad as you're making it out to be, Dean."

Dean turned abruptly. "What?"

"Nothing is as it seems and _everything _is turned on its head." He smiled. "I guess the Cheshire Cat was right, most everyone really _is _mad here…" he then started singing the beginning of "The Jabbberwoky Poem" as loud as he could and Michael bashed his head against the flaming bars.

Dean's brows furrowed as he turned and headed back to the upper levels of hell. He hadn't gotten any information out of the pair. Nothing. Nada. Of course, Ryan couldn't have kids, she'd told him so. But, he supposed he could talk to Cas, see what he had to say. He contemplated seeing Ryan, but he didn't want to scare her. She was terrified of demons, and he was their king. No, he would discretely ask Castiel. That was better. Besides, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself seeing her. He was still attracted to her, and he knew he'd never been able to say 'no' to her either. So, no, this was much better.

* * *

He popped himself topside and walked into the café he and Cas frequented. He'd missed more than a few meetings, prompting him to go ahead and call a meeting today to make up for it. To his surprise, Castiel wasn't there. Instead, a frightened young woman came to him. "C-Castiel is busy at the moment. H-He asks you to wait for him outside the Men of Letters bunker. He should be along in three to five minutes."

Dean's brows knit, but he just nodded. He hadn't even ordered his pie. Well, that was alright. He walked outside, glanced around, then traveled to the bunker. He propped himself up against the wall and waited a few moments before Cas walked out of the door.

"Hello, Dean. I apologize. I was assisting young Hope with some research."

Dean smiled despite himself. The kid was straight up cool shit. He wished he'd had more than just a day to get to know her. He would bet money she'd be an awesome hunter one day, just like her mom. "She doing good?"

Cas nodded "Yes, she's, ah, she's doing well. All the children are."

"How old is she now?"

"Fourteen. Her brother, Bobby, is five and the youngest boy, Jonathan, is three."

Dean let out a low whistle. "I bet Sam and Ryan have their hands full."

Castiel shrugged indifferently. "They are not here. They are working a case together at the moment. Jody and her daughter, Annie, in addition to Hope, are babysitting while they're gone."

"Is it a serious case?"

"They weren't certain what it was. It appears to be some kind of Demigod, or goddess, actually, one that has issues with adultery."

Dean shook his head. "Wow. I don't miss those. I tangled with a few of them. They'll be okay, though, right?"

Cas smiled. "I have no doubts about their abilities. The two of them make an almost perfect team."

Dean couldn't pretend it didn't hurt his heart to hear it. He'd always thought he and Sammy made the best team. He could only assume he had been wrong, though, he had to admit, they had their fair share of crap between them. Maybe Ryan was the best option for a hunting partner. He wondered how they could hunt without worrying about the kids, but he supposed Ryan was just all around better at shit in life than he had been. "Well, good. Where are they?"

"Nebraska, I believe."

Dean nodded, pretending not to be interested. "Okay, well, listen, sounds like you're busy, so, uh, rain check?"

Cas eyed him suspiciously, but smiled. "As you wish. I will see you soon, Dean."

Dean blinked and Cas had flown off. _If one of the kids were a demon, Cas would mention it. So, clearly Lucifer is full of shit. _With that decided, Dean contemplated what he wanted to do next.

He could go back downstairs, fuck with Raeburn a bit more, but…Dean looked around before doing something he had never done, he used his blood connection to Ryan to find her. He had never forgotten the fact he had given her blood once upon a time. His blood sang within her and he easily found her location and zoomed in on it.

He materialized and found himself standing outside a bar. It wasn't a rough place, but similar to a million and one bars he and Sammy had often visited in their travels.

He walked into the place, scanning the crowd quickly for Sam, finding him easily, standing head and shoulders above the other patrons. He didn't see Ryan yet, but he could feel her proximity. He ordered a drink and propped himself against the bar. He downed it and ordered another, ignoring the woman behind the bar, and the appreciative glances she, as well as the chick to his right were sending his way. He rolled his eyes. He had better shit to do than hook up with a damn barfly. He downed his second drink and inclined his head for a third. He didn't even glance behind him as he heard a sound and turned his head to the stage…where Ryan was standing, preparing to sing.

She looked beautiful in a blood red dress that skimmed every curve she had, which weren't quite as numerous nor as prevalent as the last time he saw her. She almost looked too thin, but he could easily make out the muscles in her arms and legs, so clearly she was still quite strong if she was hunting. The dress had long sleeves to hide her scars, but it was the skirt of it that drew his attention….it was too short, way too short and it showed off a hint of her milky ivory skin above the thigh-high leather stiletto boots she was wearing. She was way too exposed for a place like this and Dean felt a growl rising in his throat that all these men were staring at her.

He noticed her eyes lit on Sam and she gave him a smile, _the _smile…one of those secret kind of smiles that used to be reserved for _him _and he felt like he was intruding on something special, something almost…sacred, but he couldn't help himself.

She cleared her throat nervously as the band began playing the song. It was a rock song, one he'd never heard before, but it was so full of raw sex he almost melted listening to her honeyed voice growling out the lyrics about being watched and getting off on it. His eyes narrowed as she moved her hands up and down her body, earning catcalls as she lost herself in the song, not giving a shit at the fact she was, without a doubt, the cause of every man in the damn place popping a boner.

He stood, to do what, he wasn't sure. He made it halfway through the crowd when he realized…she was on a case, right? They were working a case. He couldn't drag her off the damn stage. He couldn't mess up if they were trying to catch some creature…

She was prancing around the stage now, her curls wild around her head, making her look like a goddess herself. Her voice rasped in nothing but pure seduction.

When she finished, she tossed the mike to one of the backup singers, shot Sam an evil grin and jumped off the stage into his waiting arms. Dean had about two seconds to realize what was going to happen. He tried to leave, but he didn't miss the kiss…the one that should have lit the fucking place on fire. He felt something in the vicinity of his chest, a pain ripped through him in that instant and it took him until he had melted back down to hell and bit Crowley's head off for something inconsequential that it occurred to him what it was…hurt. Betrayal. Pain. He was officially heartbroken.

Funny, he'd never even realized he still _had _a heart…He was so _angry. _He wanted to destroy something. His mind traveled to the special room that had been set up for him and he smiled. He went then to Raeburn.

He lost himself in torturing the demon. It was…therapeutic in a way. Dean refused to let him off the rack. He gave the demon no rest until finally, Dean calmed down. He couldn't do this. He was a demon, the _king _demon. Ryan was terrified of demons. Besides that, she was a human. Sam was a human. He wanted Sam to be happy, right? And this…this was what Sam wanted, so, he had to let Ryan go.

The realization made things easier. Easier, but not better, and occasionally, he would irrationally find himself angry, hurt, and then he would go back to Raeburn where he would torture the bastard, then go about his day. Anytime he got angry, he'd go torture the fucker. Crowley bitched? He'd go take it out on Raeburn. He was like Dean's own personal chew toy. He found he was able to focus on everything better when he had Raeburn to torture. It made life so much easier and better for Dean in hell then. He wished he had thought about it from the beginning.

After one particularly refreshing torture session, he smiled as he stepped from the room, wiping blood from his hands with a wet towel. "Thanks, Meg."

"My pleasure, boss. Same time tomorrow?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, why not?"

She giggled and went back to work in another room.

Dean walked down the hall with a self-satisfied smirk as he heard Raeburn wailing and lamenting behind the closed door. He hadn't broke the bastard, however, he did know where to hurt him the worst. That was what he focused on. He didn't give a shit if he broke the son of a bitch, as long as he got to continue torturing the little shit.

They had done as Dean asked, and moved Raeburn to a special room, reserved only for Dean. Raeburn was kept chained to the rack twenty four/seven. He was never allowed down, never allowed to heal, never allowed anything.

Dean took in a great, satisfied breath and smiled again as the doors to the elevator closed.

He stopped in on the crossroads floor. It had been a while since he'd checked in on Crowley. Oh, he knew Bela was keeping Crowley straight, he just wanted to go bother the little shit for a moment.

He was still all smiles as he didn't knock, but strode into Crowley's office like he owned the place, which, well, he did. "Crowley."

"Dean."

Dean chuckled at the cold tone Crowley used. "How are things?"

"Fine, Dean. How are things with you?"

"I'm great," Dean told him as he sat down in the chair and propped his feet up on Crowley's desk.

Crowley pursed his lips, but smartly, didn't say anything. "How can I help you today, _sir?_"

Dean smirked at the sarcasm that dripped from Crowley's tone. "Nothing, man, I just felt like coming and bothering you."

"So I see. Well, I am quite busy, actually. We have a new crossroads demon and I need to train her in your protocol."

Dean nodded and stood. "Good. Make sure she knows the rules. I can always create other rooms for my tortures."

Crowley shivered and Dean's smile grew. Everyone in hell knew about Raeburn by now. It had been over two centuries of hell time Dean had been torturing him in between his work. He had spent fifty years with him solely without interruption in the beginning and it had felt so fucking good, Dean couldn't describe it if he tried.

He took his leave then and roamed hell for a little while, unsure what to do with himself. His next meeting with Cas wasn't for a few years, and his paperwork was all caught up. He was…listless, he supposed was a good word for it. He could have found a willing little demon to bang, but he really wasn't in the mood for sex. Truthfully, those little demon whores hadn't done much for him lately. Sure, he got off, but he missed the connection. It was all just sex. He wanted…he knew what he wanted, he wanted a human. But not just any human; no, he had in mind a specific one. One he couldn't have. One that wouldn't want him, no matter what.

Finally, he muttered, "I'm in hell. So what if coveting is one of the cardinal sins? Fuck it." He closed his eyes, envisioned where he wanted to be, and went topside. He glanced up at Ryan's house as he materialized in front of it.

The impala was missing from the driveway, but another car was sitting there, a rental. It was dark and the house was quiet, except for two soft female voices. He imagined himself at the back of the house to see Jody and Ryan sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey between them.

He took in their appearances. Both were dressed in halfway fancy clothes, so clearly they were getting ready for a night out on the town. Jody was in a conservative number, but Ryan, _damn, _Ryan…she looked beautiful in a deep blue halter top that broadcast not only her scars, but the tattoo on her back. She also wore an impossibly short skirt that displayed the miles of ivory skin of her legs and he could just barely make out a hint of ink running up her thigh to her hip. She had on some of those 'fuck me' shoes that seemed like they were a mile high in a sexy as sin black with red bottoms. They looked expensive and he'd bet they were, too. She was gorgeous. If anything, she looked better than he'd ever seen her. But her face…something was bothering her, he could tell. Apparently, so could Jody.

"Are you okay, Ryan?" Jody asked her softly.

Ryan blew out a breath. "Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Jody shot her a look and Dean cringed. He wasn't sure what it was about the woman that could make you feel like you'd done something wrong. It was "the mom look" if he'd ever seen one, and he should know. He did remember seeing it a few times in the four short years he'd had a mother. "Don't bullshit me, Ryan," Jody was saying, "I'm your best friend. I know when you're lying."

The side of Ryan's mouth lifted in a half smile. "I'm okay, physically. I'm stronger than I've ever been. I'm more focused, I'm more centered. I'm okay as far as my mental health, too. I mean, you'd think I'd be buckets of crazy again, in all this chaos I've thrust myself into, but I'm not…it's…wonderful. I love all these kids; it is great having them all here. I'm thriving on it. And this thing with Sam, it's terrific…"

"But…?" Jody prompted.

Ryan blew out another breath. Dean knew she did it when she was about to admit something, or say something she didn't want to. "I miss him. Sam misses him…it's like there's a giant, Dean-sized hole in our lives and nothing can fill it."

Dean almost audibly gasped. _They miss_ _me? _He hadn't really thought about it, to be honest. He was a monster now. Why would they miss him?

"You could always…" Jody began.

Ryan let out a snort. "I could always…what, Jody? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? March down to hell and profess my love?"

_Ryan…loves me? What the hell? _

Jody shrugged. "It's an idea."

"He's refused to see Sam, Jody. _Sam. _If he won't even see his _brother, _his reason for _living _and _dying _and all that other shit, _why_ would he want to see some chick he banged a couple of times?"

_Is that how she sees herself? Doesn't she realize I loved her too? _Hell, if he was honest with himself, he probably _still _loved her.

Jody poured them both another shot and they downed the alcohol. "He needs to know the truth, Ryan."

Ryan let out what sounded like a half hysterical laugh. "Are you kidding me? You're kidding, right? He's a _demon, _Jody! The motherfucking _king _demon! I'm supposed to march right in there and tell him…?"

"Gabriel said to tell him when he was dead. I think demonized is kinda dead, don't you?"

_Gabriel? What the fuck, Ryan? What have you done with angels? _Of course, Gabriel was a common name. Maybe she'd met some shaman, or a voodoo priest, it didn't have to be the archangel Gabriel, did it?

He heard a sniff and was surprised to see it was Ryan crying. "What difference does it make? Sam gets a happily ever after. That was the deal, right? I look after Sammy, take over Dean's place. Sam gets to have a happy ending, and I think, oddly enough, finally, he's getting it."

"And what about you, Ryan? Do you get a happy ending?"

Ryan wiped the tears off her cheeks. "My happy ending died when Dean opened black eyes." She smiled a self-depreciating smile. "I was never going to get one, anyway. It was a pipe dream. I've got a happy enough ending. That's what I got."

"You could try…"

"What, Jody? Just what could I try? It's over. Bam. Done. It's finished and now, so am I. I don't get a say, I don't get a choice. I made my bed, now I lie in it."

He heard a bang as Jody slammed her hand on the table. "Damn it, this, right here, _this _is why Sam asked me to talk to you. You _fight, _Ryan, it's what you do! You always have!"

"I _am_ fighting, Jody! God help me, I'm fighting and hunting and training the kids and being a mother and being a Woman of Letters or Journaler, or whatever-the-fuck we've decided to call it and I'm working my fingers to the bone. All I _do_ is fight."

"But not for him? You won't fight for Dean?"

"Dean's dead," Ryan stated coldly. "The Dean Winchester I know is long gone. He's dead, Jody. Sure, Cas says he's the same, but I'm not stupid. He wouldn't be torturing demons for centuries on end if he was my Dean."

"Oh please. Get your head out of your ass, Ryan. That's exactly who he is! You've made him into some Disney Prince! Dean is torturing Raeburn because of _you_. He knows what that bastard did to you, much better than I do, and I was _there _when we excised him for a second time. Dean is exacting revenge for _you_. If that doesn't show love, then I don't know what does." Jody paused the pursed her lips. "I don't see Dean torturing Ruby, and we both know that demon chick screwed over both the brothers. She got Sam hooked on _demon blood _and managed to trick him into letting Lucifer out of his cage for crying out loud!"

Dean smirked. He had briefly considered torturing Ruby, but by the time he'd become king, Ruby was being tortured enough for failing Lilith, so he hadn't felt the need to take on her…care, personally.

Ryan let out a laugh and brought him back to the women's conversation. "Come on, Jody, really? Out of all the women he's fucked in his lifetime, _I'm _the one that's special? Give me one reason why."

_I can give you ten. Fifteen. Twenty, _Dean mused.

"Because you're you, Ryan. Because it's written in the stars. Because heaven declared it, I don't know how to make it any plainer to see. And if you had a little more faith, you would, too."

Ryan narrowed her eyes and stated bitterly, "I don't have any faith. Not anymore. Not when everything I believed has been turned on its head."

Jody grasped Ryan's hand. "You were never destined for a normal life, Ryan, you know that. Now, enjoy your pity party then pick up the pieces."

Ryan downed another shot of whiskey and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah, you're right. I've wallowed enough, haven't I?"

Jody let out a snort. "Yeah, you have."

Two more tears rolled down Ryan's face. "We're like that song, you know?"

"Which one, Ryan? I know you convey your emotions through songs a lot, but you'll have to be more specific."

She sighed. "I grew up in North Carolina. My daddy was big into country music. There is this one song, by Pam Tillis. It's called 'The River and The Highway'. That's me and Dean."

"What's it about?"

Ryan closed her eyes as she thought and Dean saw more tears trickle out of her closed lids. "The river follows the path of least resistance. She doesn't care to see the mountain top. She twists and turns with no regard for distance, she never comes to a stop. And the highway, well, he's headed for a single destination. He doesn't care what's standing in his path. He's a line between two points of separation. But he ends just where it says to on the map."

Jody's brows knit. "Okay."

"But every now and then, he offers her a shoulder. And every now and then, she overflows. And every now and then, a bridge crosses over, and they're together for those few moments of bliss."

"Well…that's depressing," Jody commented.

Ryan laughed as new tears poured down her face. "Yeah, well, I'm good with tragedy." She sniffed once, twice, wiped her tear-stained cheeks, then smiled. "Come on. I'm done. We need to get going. We've got a wedding rehearsal dinner to get to."

Dean blinked as he watched the two women get up and walk toward the door. He heard the rental car start up and drive away. _Wedding? Sam's happily ever after? Ryan loves me? Gabriel? What the fuck did I just hear? _

* * *

**_AN2: How evil am I? Uh...very? Yes, yes I am. So...next chapter, we go alllll the way back to the beginning. I think it's time to see Ryan's side of things, don't you? You have no idea what Dean's been missing. _**

**_Side note: I love Dean. I'm a Dean girl. I promise, he'll find his way to happiness...eventually. I wouldn't be writing SPN fanfiction if I didn't enjoy torturing the hell out of characters though, first. Hold on, more heartfail to come. Until next time, my lovelies..._**


	9. Black Velvet

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural. I really, REALLY would like to, if only to beat someone for using the term DEANMON in that season 10 promo. SMH…**

**AN: WOW! Thanks you guys! All I had to do was bitch to get more reviews. LOL. And look! Three more followers! Thanks! Oh, FYI, I'm on tumblr now! I'm mischief-maker1 over there, too. Come hang out with me! I'm in talks with someone to get me some gifs or a pic for this story. If you like it, and feel like doing one for me, PM me or get with me over there. **

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**TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicidal thoughts, memories of attempts, mentions of rape. I have never been suicidal. I have a close family member that is and she and I have talked about it before. She was also raped as a teen. I have not been. I am trying to be as considerate of the subject matter as I can be, so please forgive me, I really do not mean to offend anyone. Everyone who has read the story up to now has seen things from Dean's point of view. Ryan's isn't great, but I'm not making it either despairingly bad nor happy-happy, joy-joy. There are reasons she acts as she does, ones you'll find out in later chapters. HAVING SAID THAT…PLEASE! This is a work of fiction. If you are on medications for depression, DO NOT STOP TAKING THEM. THERE ARE SUPERNATURAL FORCES AT WORK HERE. And we will delve into those in the following chapters. Now, please enjoy your regularly scheduled story, already in progress…**

* * *

Back to the beginning…almost all the way to the beginning.

**Ryan's POV**

_The blow caused her to fall back onto the ground as her head snapped back from the punch. "She's a pretty one."_

"_She's sweet as candy…"_

"_M-Mr. Marcus?" she asked, confusion and hurt warring within her. Mr. Marcus was the nice man that worked in the grocery store, wasn't he?_

"_Oh, how cute. She thinks I'm actually the meatsuit I'm wearing."_

_The other two men, whom she also recognized, were laughing now as Mr. Marcus bent down to her. His eyes flashed black. "I ain't Mr. Marcus, little girl. I'm a demon. And do you know what demons do to sweet little pieces of ass like you?" His hand trailed over her, causing fear to stab in her heart. "We take every piece of you."_

Ryan jerked awake as she heard the door open. Her hand slid to the silver knife sitting in the holster hidden in her jeans just as Mr. and Mrs. Abruzzi walked in. "Hi, Ryan, was Jack good for you?"

Ryan took a small breath and plastered a smile on her face as she stood. _Just another dream, just another nightmare. You're twenty-one years old, Ryan. You're in college. You haven't seen a demon since you were eleven. You are fine. _The mantra helped. Sometimes. "Jack was great. He didn't want to eat much, though. He felt kind of warm, but not warm enough for me to call you to ask if he needed medicine. You might want to pop into his room and check him, though. We played Lego's for about a hundred million years and then he got tired pretty quickly." She grinned ruefully. "I think I dozed off, myself."

Mrs. Abruzzi dug into her small clutch and handed Ryan some money. "Thank you, Ryan, you're wonderful. I know one day you'll make an excellent mother."

Ryan's heart lurched, but she just hid the pain, as she always did, and nodded. "Thanks. I'll, uh, I'll see myself out."

"It's late, Ryan, are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" Mr. Abruzzi asked.

Ryan held in the shiver, but just barely. She didn't let strange men get close to her, and riding in the car with him was absolutely out of the question. She couldn't go around putting holy water in everyone's drinks, so she just kept an eye out, but that didn't mean she wanted to put herself in danger by being in an enclosed vehicle with him. That was why she didn't trust public transportation, either. "No, sir, it's fine. My apartment is only a few blocks from here. I could have driven, but didn't want to bother getting my car out."

"Are you sure? It isn't safe for young women to be out alone at night."

She smirked at that. She'd read enough to know how to kill almost anything. She was a fourth degree blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do and had mastered a handful of weapons. _Just let anything try to fuck with me._ It would end badly for _it_, not her. Of course, she also had never actually had anything _try _to attack her, so she wasn't one hundred percent sure she wouldn't choke, but that was okay. Better safe out in the world where she could run away than being shut in a car with him. "Trust me, I'll be fine. Thanks."

She slipped into her tennis shoes and exited the house into the cool May air. She was watchful, though, as she made her way back to her apartment thankful yet again she didn't have to live in a dorm. Her father's passing had been hurtful, but it had been freeing, in a way. Financially, she was stable and sound. Her mother had a life insurance policy her father had never touched, and then her father's insurance policy was also a decent amount. She'd invested some of it and was living meagerly to save as much money as she could, which was why she walked everywhere.

She made her way back to her apartment and only after checking to make sure all her wards were secure, did she allow herself to relax. Here was her safe haven. She had read and researched all about demons and felt fairly confident one would never touch her again.

She went to her room and slipped out of her summer sweater. She hated wearing long sleeves, but she had gotten used to it. No one wanted to see the evidence of her darkest hours. No one could understand why she felt the need to end her life. No one could fully appreciate how fucked up you could get by watching your own hands kill your mother, though you had no control over it. No one could imagine feeling the feelings of the tortures those few hours she was a demon's plaything wrought. She shivered and decided a hot shower was in order.

She had a CD player in her bathroom, a small one, on the back of the toilet, and she turned it on to some classical music. Well, some classical rock music. Queen, was actually what she put on. _Nothing like a little Bohemian Rhapsody to relax you, _she thought.

As she waited for the water to warm, she stripped naked and looked at herself in the mirror. She was pretty, that much, she was aware of. Lots of guys looked at her. She didn't mind being looked at. It was when they tried to approach, things got complicated. Younger guys were easier to be around. She had no issues chatting with the little teenage boys that worked in the grocery store. The ones her age…tended to be a bit more of a concern, but she handled it. She knew she seemed cold and aloof, but that kept her safe. It was the middle aged men, however, that always gave her pause. Of course, the demons were riding middle aged men, so that certainly explained her wariness.

She turned this way and that, checking herself out. She was five foot, seven inches tall, much taller than her mother, thin, not over muscular, but she was strong. She ran a few times a week, worked out every day and kept up the Tae Kwon Do she had learned as a teen. That had been…interesting. As long as she'd had female teachers, she had been fine, and once she got some skill in, she hadn't minded sparing with men. It had been a nice realization that she could, at least, be around men without freaking out completely. It had started her healing process, but certainly hadn't completed it. Who was she kidding? She would never be healed. She accepted that.

She fingered the rope of a scar that ran down the length of her right forearm. It hadn't been the first time she'd tried to kill herself. The first time, she had been thirteen and swallowed a bottle of pills. Her father found her lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. The sleeping pills had taken effect before she had the chance to make it back to her room. If she could have only just gotten back to her bed, he would never have known. Instead, it had bought her a ticket to the nuthouse and a child shrink who wanted to talk about her feelings.

Ryan snorted as she remembered the idiot doctor who thought she knew it all. After a three month stint, they decided she was well enough and sent her out on her merry little way with a fuckton of pills a day and twice a week appointments. She'd played her part, acted like she was fine, and almost started to believe it. She got into Tae Kwon Do, began reading everything she could get her hands on, started being normal around her father again. She didn't go to school, that was too much. She tried, and it almost sent her spiraling out of control again. Eventually, her father found her a correspondence course and a couple of sympathetic teachers willing to tutor her in the classes she needed practical applications in. She was still depressed, still suicidal, still felt…worthless. She began cutting herself and that helped. She knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but she needed the relief it provided. All that culminated to help her cope…until she was seventeen.

_**Flashback**_

_A few months after her seventeenth birthday, she noticed the pills had slowly begun to stop working. She grew more and more depressed, and then, one night, she had a different kind of nightmare. She dreamed about the demons almost every night, but that night, she dreamed about her mother, about her begging and pleading for Ryan not to kill her, telling her over and over how much she loved her baby, how they would get help for her…Ryan didn't stop as she slashed the woman to bits. That part disturbed her, but when the boy with the Jolly Rancher green eyes had shown up, she had killed him, too, but not before she did…things to him. She tortured him as she had been tortured and that was just too much. No one could save her then. _

_Ryan woke sobbing and in the lowest place she could possibly go. She felt responsible. She should have died, then she wouldn't have killed her mom. If she had just died instead of holding out hope someone would come rescue her, she wouldn't have remembered doing that to her mother. _

_She could still remember the feel of the blade in her hand, the one that had her dried blood on it from the demons 'playtime' with her. She had taken it out of her skirt waistband where she had hidden it and stabbed her mom in the back as she knelt over the tub to start the water for the bath. She felt the warm blood trickle down her hand as she began cutting and slicing, could see the fear in her mother's eyes as the life drained out of her…_

_Ryan had stood from her bed and walked to get another pill, to try to calm herself down, but she had caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, had sworn she had seen black eyes flashing in her own frightened orbs and slammed her hand into the mirror, breaking it into hundreds of pieces. _

_There was one big piece lying in the sink. It was sharp on one end, but big and sturdy. Ryan grabbed it up and caught her reflection in it. "Go on, you worthless piece of shit!" her reflection said to her, "You're a monster! A monster no one loves! No one wants you! Your father is terrified of you! You killed your mother! End it. Be gone from this world! Hell will welcome you with open arms and you'll suffer for the pain you cause everyone you've ever known!"_

_She swallowed hard and began to trace it along her wrists. "No! No, no, no! Not like that! Go the length of your arm! What is it the one girl said? Down the street, not across the road. Go the length of your arm and make it deep. No one will be able to save you in time. Not that you're worthy of saving, anyway. Go, bleed out for your mom. Maybe then, you'll atone for your sins!"_

_She grabbed the chunk of mirror too tightly, it bit into her palm, slicing it, but the pain was cathartic. She gasped in pleasure as the pain tore through her. Yes, this was what she needed. She lovingly ran the sharpened tip up and down her arm, reveling in the sensation of the glass just barely breaking her skin. She set her jaw and plunged it into her flesh, dragging it down the length of her arm, all the way from her elbow to her wrist. Blood started gushing forth from the wound and she smiled for the first time in years, it seemed. Yes. This is what she was supposed to do. _

_She moved the shard to her other hand and once more, lovingly caressed her flesh with the tip before she began dragging it roughly down her arm. _

_She felt woozy almost immediately and she welcomed the sensation. It was gloriously freeing. She felt like she was flying as she sank to her knees. I'm so sorry, Mom. Don't worry…Hell will welcome me home, where I'll pay for my sins…_

_She awoke three days later, tied down to a bed in another psychiatric facility. Her dad came to visit her, but she refused to see him. She was pissed. Why couldn't she manage to do anything right? She was supposed to kill herself, not end up in the loony bin again!_

_She was force-fed pills and made to talk about her fucking feelings again and on and on the same issues went. She remembered with perfect clarity, the first time they removed her bandages and she saw the scars running down both her arms. They'd had a time stopping the bleeding, or so she had been told. She had damaged the median nerve in both her arms as well as tore through the interosseous arteries on both sides. They had stapled her arms back together and she enjoyed counting each one on her right arm, all the way to thirty nine. Her left arm had thirty eight. It annoyed her. Why the hell didn't they just put an even forty in each? Or at the very least, make them both the same number? _

_The nurses were all skittish around her, for some reason. It turned out, while she was hopped up on all the meds, she had talked about the demons. Rookie mistake…never mention supernatural beings in the nuthouse. It only made them think you were crazier than you already were. Finally, they let her out, which she thought was ridiculous. Didn't they realize she was just going to do it again? This time, without the chance of someone finding her! _

_But, she didn't. And it was odd how it came about, that release and the loss of desire to end her life. She had run out of her prescription meds and forgot to get them filled. She knew better, but she'd been dealing with a cold, she was taking her final exams, her dad had been laid off from his job at the factory and she just…forgot. It took her a few days for the drugs to be out of her system. She had gone for a jog, it cleared her mind as she built up her muscles, and that was helping her physicality. She ran along the path at their local park. It was a beautiful brightly sunlit day. She reached the crest of the hillock and panted as the world opened up for her. She saw the beautiful water bubbling along the brook as it made its way down the sloping landscape, heard the birds chirping in the trees, felt the warmth of the sun on her skin…she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Suddenly, she had a moment of pure clarity. It was like coming out of the fog. Everything made sense. She lived. And why? To prove those evil sons of bitches wrong. She was not a demon and she never would be. She was alive. No, life wasn't perfect, but she was alive. And her mother died at her hand, but it wasn't her controlling it. She had been a puppet for that demon bastard. He had killed her mother, not her. Never her. She loved her mom more than anything. She would never have hurt her! _

"_Wow! What a view!" _

_Her eyes popped open at the man's voice. "What?" she asked softly as she came out of her reverie._

_He smiled at her. He was wearing jogging pants and smirked as he grabbed a lollypop out of his pocket. "I said, 'wow, what a view.'"_

_She smiled at him. "It really is. It's gorgeous. That's why I come here to run." She eyed his candy. "You're running, but you're eating a sucker?"_

_He laughed. "Yeah, bad habit I can't quit. But, hey, you give up smoking and drinking, you've got to have some vice, right?"_

_She chuckled. "I guess." She went to sit on the large bolder that overlooked the view. "The sun feels so good after all the rain we've had."_

"_Yeah. Did you see that rainbow this morning?"_

_She shook her head. It had been a bad day. It was all she could do to get out of bed in the first place. _

"_Too bad. Hate you missed it. It was totally proof of God's plan, you know?"_

_She didn't know and briefly wondered if he was one of those religious nuts. "I guess…" she said softly as she eyed him. He wasn't looking at her, but still enjoying the view. _

"_I almost committed suicide, once," he muttered._

_She blinked. "You did? Why?"_

_He shrugged and turned to her. "Family problems. Let's just say I'm the black sheep of a really big, really obnoxious family."_

"_I don't know what that's like," she murmured. "I'm an only child. My mother's dead, my father has all but grieved himself into the grave, I'm a clusterfuck of mixed emotions, physical and mental scars, and a lifetime's worth of issues."_

_He let out a whistle. "That's a lot for a teenager to go through."_

_At that, she snorted. "You don't know the half of it."_

"_No, I guess I don't. But you'll make it."_

"_How do you know?" she whispered uncertainly._

_He smiled and she couldn't help smiling at the mischievous glint in his eye. "Because, you're a fighter, aren't you?"_

_Her eyes narrowed as she thought. Was she a fighter? She wasn't sure. She would never have considered herself to be one. "No, I don't think so."_

"_I do," his voice was soft, almost hypnotic and she was relaxed by him for some strange reason. "I think you're a great fighter. One day, you'll prove it."_

_She sucked in a breath. "Today I think I might agree with you."_

_He smiled. "Remember this, then, today. When you get low, remember."_

_**End Flashback**_

Ryan blinked and realized she still hadn't gotten into the shower. She stepped under the hot spray and signed in relief. No, she wasn't normal, she never would be again, and she knew each day would be a struggle. It was easy to feel great and know your self worth one day, but the next, you'd feel rock-bottom depressed. It was a knife's edge her life balanced on. Coming out of the medication fog, though, had allowed her to see that she was going to have to deal with this aftermath of demonic possession all on her own. And she had done just that.

She'd continued working out, getting healthier, earning belt after belt in Tae Kwon Do, and learning. She started reading every book she could find on demons. As it turned out, there were other bad things in the world that were real, too. So, she started reading about them, also. She was now a walking encyclopedia of weird, but that worked. She liked knowing things normal people didn't. It made her feel…special.

Once she was relaxed with the shower and the music she had set up in the bathroom, she emerged and grabbed a glass of juice. She contemplated the alcohol above the refrigerator, but knew she didn't want to become an alcoholic. She had enough issues without adding booze to the mix.

Everyone thought she was crazy. Hell, she definitely was. She didn't want to be the class drunk, too. She flipped on the TV and waited for the news to come back on, but when it did, she gasped as it told about one of her classmates being brutally murdered that night. She turned the volume up and listened to the newscaster's cheery voice; "It is a sad day for Appalachian State University as Mandy Newell, one of the cheerleaders for the Mountaineers, died last night. Details are still sketchy, but it appears to be a homicide. We go now, live, to the scene of the crime…"

The camera switched to outside the library. "Thanks, Jan. Yes, tonight this quiet campus is reeling from the discovery of Mandy Newell's body in the lawn across the way. Authorities are remaining mum on this, but it just adds layers to the sadness that overcame the campus." There were pictures that flashed up onscreen, confusing Ryan until the newscaster continued. "Mandy Newell's death follows a long line of strange occurrences on campus. Ten years ago, Michelle Castleberry and Rachel Matheson were murdered here on campus just three nights apart, both of apparent stabbings. The police aren't ruling anything out, but it is safe to say foul play is involved…"

She let out a snort. "Foul play? Really? Man, you are idiots."

Two pictures flashed on screen again and she sucked in a breath. The two women looked, well, they looked like her. Mandy and her could have been twins, save for the fact Mandy was popular and she…wasn't. But these two shared quite a lot of the same facial features she saw every morning in the mirror.

She let out her breath slowly. This definitely wasn't something normal. She stood abruptly and dashed to her computer, quickly hitting the internet and doing a search for deaths around ASU. The results were astounding. Two girls, three days apart, every ten years. It was a pattern, most definitely.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. _You're going to come after me, aren't you, whatever you are? _She opened her eyes and narrowed them. _No, you are not. _She walked over to her bookshelf and started rummaging through her occult books, looking for a list of possible things that could be doing this. Three hours later, she figured out it must be a vengeful spirit. Djinns didn't kill their victims, not until they'd used them all up. Demons, well, they wouldn't just kill for the sake of killing. Not like this, anyway, and no one mentioned the presence of an odd smell or comment on smelling sulfur. Werewolves supposedly ate the heart of the victim. Vampires drained victims dry. On and on it went as she crossed off possible killers until a vengeful spirit was all she had left.

She hopped back on the internet and tried to find how far back it ran…all the way back to 1902 where a string of stabbings popped up like a red flag.

"Ghost. How the _fuck_ do I kill a ghost?" she muttered, and back she went to the drawing board, looking through books.

By the time the sun was fully rising, she had narrowed down her suspect pool to two possible men who had become vengeful spirits, but she wasn't entirely sure she knew how to handle this thing. The salt would protect her, that much she knew, and she kept her salt lines up anyway. Iron, her books said, would help too. Well, good. She had a tire iron in her car, plus a poker she had gotten at an antique shop just because she thought it looked cool. It was propped up against her mock fireplace.

She thought a moment and then decided to make a call. She'd heard through the grapevine of someone who could help with this. She only hoped he checked his messages.

She picked up her phone and dialed the number she had memorized, just in case. The voicemail picked up after the third ring. "This is John Winchester, if you have an emergency, please leave me a message and I will call you back as soon as possible."

"M-Mr. Winchester, I…I'm in North Carolina. App State University. I, I think we have a vengeful spirit. It killed one person. I'm pretty sure I'm next. Please. I'll, uh, I'll try you again sometime soon." She hung up and felt like an idiot. What were the odds he really was a hunter? But she couldn't forget Dean and Sammy saving her life by knowing how to excise a demon, so, maybe there was hope he was the real deal.

But, on the off chance he wasn't, she began researching how to kill a ghost.

Ryan was jumpy all day and into the night. She skipped her classes and stayed indoors catching snippets of sleep between bouts of fear. By the next day, however, she was past being scared and had traveled into the realm of pissed off. "I didn't survive being raped and almost killed by demons, demonic possession, and two suicide attempts for some ghost to bully me into dying," she murmured as she gathered salt, the poker, holy water (just in case) her silver knife, and her little handgun. Her eyes narrowed. "You're not going to scare me, you piece of shit specter."

She went about her day as normal as humanly possible, ignoring everyone as was her usual, and kept her eyes peeled for anything coming to kill her.

She was in the bathroom after her last class when she heard Wendi Westburg talking to Kandi Ellis. "I'm telling you, he was gorgeous! Perfect eyes! Perfect hair! Perfect teeth! Big green eyes, killer body…"

"Did you give him your number?"

"What do you think? Of course I did. He took it with a wink." Wendi let out a sigh. "He said he was a journalism major with his boss covering the case about Mandy."

"That was like, so sad," Kandi stated as she applied more lipstick.

"I know, right? I mean, she was like, the best cheerleader ever!"

"Except when she couldn't stick the landing," Kandi supplied.

"Shhh! Don't like, disparage the dead, Kandi!"

Ryan's eyebrow rose. She couldn't believe Wendi even knew what the word 'disparage' meant.

"So, he's going to be over at the bar later, said for me to find him."

"What was his name?"

"It was really weird, he didn't want to give it to me, but he did. Angus."

"Angus?"

"Yeah, Angus Young. It's weird, but he's pretty, so…"

Ryan held in a chuckle, wondering if Wendi even knew the guy had given her a fake name. _Angus Young? Really? The lead singer of AC/DC?_ Ryan rolled her eyes as the two other girls made their way out of the bathroom. Just then, her cell phone rang. She glanced at it, confused. No one had her number. No one called her. It was for emergencies only. She let it go to voicemail and then waited a moment to check it.

"Look, this is John Winchester. I don't know who you are, but you called me. I'm here at App State. I think you might be right. I'll be at Hooligans in a little while if you want to meet. You sounded scared, so that means you're inexperienced. I'll protect you. I promise."

Her heart leapt into her throat. He was here? Would she even recognize him? It had been ten years since she had seen the big man with the two boys who stayed at her house.

She ran back to the apartment and ditched her books before checking her makeup and making sure she looked decent. She then strode out to her car and slid behind the wheel. She cranked the engine, loving the sound of the beast purring in pleasure beneath her.

She closed her eyes and smiled. The old Ford Falcon had always been attached to good memories. It was her grandfather's and he used to take her out in it all the time. He died, the summer she was ten, before the shit hit the fan in her life. Her father could never part with it, but he never wanted to fix it up, either. That was where she had come in. She'd gotten rid of everything her family had owned save the photo albums and this car. They were the only two things from her old life she allowed.

_Tunes, _she thought absently, getting her mind off its no doubt, downward spiral, and dug through her duffle bag of cassette tapes. When she'd had the car remodeled, the douchewad mechanic had tried to talk her into putting in a CD player but she'd had none of that, choosing to keep the car classic, in as close to mint condition as she could. She did, however, allow him to put in a cassette player, one the more deluxe models would have had. So, naturally, she bought old tapes of her favorite jams. She pulled out the old _Back in Black _cassette and grinned. _Well, apparently Angus Young _is _on campus today…_and cranked it loud as she headed to Hooligans, one of the local bars. Hooligans was actually somewhere she enjoyed going and one of her quasi-friends worked there.

She slipped inside and glanced around. She saw a very attractive young guy around her age sitting, sipping on a beer, waiting for someone. She wondered briefly if that was the infamous "Angus" and chuckled at the thoughts of Wendi. She would bet money it was a test to see if Wendi had decent taste in music or not to see if she would recognize the name. Of course, Wendi was all into *NSYNC so she doubted there would be a love connection made.

Just then, she noticed an older man walk into the bar and go sit next to "Angus". She was eyeing him warily when Christa walked over. He looked like what she remembered of John Winchester, but she wasn't one hundred percent certain.

"Hey, girl, glad you decided to come out tonight."

Ryan shrugged. "Got bored sitting at home studying."

"You feeling better?"

At Ryan's quizzical look, Christa said, "You weren't in class yesterday."

Ryan nodded. "Stomach bug. I watched Jack Abruzzi a few nights ago, caught something from him."

"Yuck. You're not contagious now, are you?"

Ryan chuckled. "No, I'm not."

Just then, "Angus" motioned for two beers. Christa rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's God's gift to women." She grinned. "He isn't wrong. Too bad I'm with Chad, or I'd give that Merry-Go-Round a ride."

"God! Christa!" Christa always made her laugh. She gave a little head bob in the direction of the two men. "Who are they, anyway?"

Christa shrugged as she snagged two beers from the cooler behind the bar. "I don't know. Some journalists, I guess, covering Mandy's death. Wasn't that terrible?"

"Yeah, it was." Ryan thought fast as Christa passed her with the two beers balanced on a tray. "Say, would you grab me a wine cooler?"

"I gotta get this order out to those two…"

"Please? I'm dying of thirst."

Christa just looked at her and sat the tray down before ducking back behind the bar. Ryan quickly tipped her flask of holy water into each of the beers and was waiting for the drink when Christa came back. "Thanks."

Christa smiled and then hurried to drop off the beers. Ryan sipped the wine cooler, which, hey, wasn't terrible, if entirely too sweet and dropped some cash on the bar for it before making her way over to the two men. They drank their beers without issue, so she felt safe enough going up to them to talk.

She arrived just in time to see the younger man check his watch. "Library's closed now, Dad. Wanna break in, or wait for morning?"

This was them, she knew it. And now that she was closer, she recognized John Winchester. He had aged, but she remembered the intimidated feeling she felt when he looked at her, even at age eleven. "Excuse me," she said softly. The younger man looked at her, appraising her and that was when she got a really good look at him.

He _was _beautiful. His eyes were the greenest she believed she had ever seen. His hair was a little long for her taste, but he was absolutely gorgeous and she felt a long suppressed desire take hold of her. Men didn't attract her. She had long since given up the notion of being normal enough for sex, but seeing him almost made her want to. That was, until he finished ogling her and gave her a killer smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Want a drink?"

And just like that, he was just like every other man she'd ever met. She rolled her eyes and ignored him as she turned to John. "Are you John Winchester?"

Both men sat up a little straighter, suspicious, she was certain. "Who wants to know?" John asked guardedly.

Her eyes widened for a moment. _It is him. He really came! _She gasped. "It _is _you!" And before either of the men could react, she had thrown her arms around John. "I knew I would eventually see you again." _Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming! _

"I'm sorry, princess, who are you?" the younger man questioned, caution written all over his face.

She turned back to him and smiled. She should have realized she had seen eyes that green only once before in her life. "Dean? You're definitely Dean. Where is Sam? Is he here?" She hoped nothing had happened to him. If they were hunters, that meant they were into some dangerous work.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetheart, back the truck up. Who are you and how do you know us?" Dean demanded gruffly.

She shook her head and sighed. _They've probably saved a million people since you, Ry. Why would they remember you? _But she remembered Dean. He was the first and only kiss she'd ever had. When she'd tried things with Tom, she wouldn't let him kiss her. She wasn't sure why. Her mind traveled back to the time she was normal, before the attack. Dean was the first boy to stir longing in her, even as a kid, to want to know what it felt like to be a grown-up behind closed bedroom doors. But, of course, he wouldn't remember her. And looking as pretty as he did, she felt sure he had been with his fair share of women in the ten years since they'd met. "Maybe you don't remember me. I'm sure you go around saving people all the time. I'm Ryan. Ryan Fawcett."

Dean looked as if he had taken a swig of gasoline. "Wh-what?"

She smiled and pulled a chair up to their table. "Ryan. Fawcett. You saved my life? Excised a demon from me. We were eleven. Any of this sounding familiar?"

Dean blinked. "O-of course I remember. I just…wow."

She looked over at John and smiled. "Is he always this verbose?"

John chuckled under his breath. "What can we do for you, Ryan?"

She didn't want to give it away yet that she was the one who called him. "Well, I assume you're here because of the ghost?"

John nodded. "What do you know of it?"

She bit her lip and looked around. Of course there were the hippies that thought ghosts were real or cool or whatever, but she didn't want any of them to think she believed in them, especially since they faked their way through séances and shit. She knew séances were real and she had no desire to go to one. "Not here. Come back with me to my place. We can talk in private." The words were out of her mouth before she realized it, but she couldn't take it back now, so she stood and waited for them to follow her outside.

She led the way out the door and went to prop herself against Demon. Dean let out a low whistle. "Damn. She's a beauty."

She knew the car was a piece of artistry but she let out a snort. "Even though she's a Ford?" she questioned with a grin. People were either Chevy people, or Ford people, she'd noticed. Personally, if it was a sexy car, like Demon, or the Winchester's Impala which she noticed was parked two cars down from her own, she drooled. Always had, always would. Her grandfather had taught her to appreciate beautiful, classic ladies like these cars. He'd never had the money to fix the car up, but he'd loved it just the same.

"Hey, you said it, not me."

She laughed, surprised he could get any kind of a reaction out of her. She didn't usually make small talk with men, though she was getting a bit better at it. She had forced herself when she enrolled in college, to try and be as normal as possible. She had, not friends, but acquaintances, like Christa, and Christa's boyfriend, Chad, plus a handful of others she studied with and such. "Yeah, well, she's not an Impala, I guess," she commented as she watched John walk over to their car.

"She yours?"

She nodded as she fingered the glossy paint job. It was perfect, she had to admit; the guy knew what he was talking about when he talked her out of painting it red. The black looked excellent on Demon. She was a gorgeous piece of machinery. "She was my grandfather's. He never had the money to fix her up and Daddy never had the inclination to sell her, so now she's mine."

Dean lightly fingered the shiny black paint as well. "Well, she's gorgeous."

She smiled. Her mom always said a way to a man's heart was through his stomach, but she had the feeling the way to Dean's was through cars. "Thanks. You wanna follow me? My apartment isn't far."

"Sure, Ryan," John told her. "Just lead the way."

She shot them both a smile and slipped behind the wheel. She cranked it and "Let Me Put My Love Into You" blasted out of it before she shut her door. _Ahhh, yeah, I forgot how much I love that song, _she thought with another smile. She waited while she watched them get into their car, then she tore out of the parking lot.

She marveled at the fact she wasn't nervous about taking these two men back to her apartment. She wasn't sure why…after all, she had rules. No one was allowed into her apartment. Ever. Not even her so called friends. They always studied at the library or at someone else's place. But these two, she felt completely comfortable with as she led them to her building.

She slid into her parking space and cut the engine. She propped her door open before she realized she hadn't forgotten to take in one of her books. Singing under her breath, she shoved the book into her backpack, zipped it up quickly, and turned to get out.

She gasped when she looked up and suddenly, Dean was standing _right there _at her door. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he muttered.

She took a few deep, cleansing breaths before she shook her head. "No damage done, you just shocked me. You move like a ninja."

He grinned. "And you didn't hear me because of your selection of music." He paused. "Nice tunes, by the way," he offered.

She shot him a wry smile. _Well, I did pick them because of you. _"I figured you would enjoy that, _Mr. Young._"

"Damn it, Dean," his father groused from behind him and Dean winced. "Can you quit with the rock aliases?"

Dean smiled and shrugged as he turned to his father. "Come on, Dad. It was some chick that I was talking to earlier. She looked like you had to pump her head with air for her to have a thought. No way she even knew _who _the hell Angus Young was."

It looked as though Dean was on his way to a full-out ass chewing, and from the look on Dean's face, she gathered Mr. Winchester did that quite frequently. For some reason, she felt the need to defend Dean. "He's right, Mr. Winchester," Ryan stated softly. Besides, Wendi really was an air head. Both men turned to her and she chuckled. "Wendi is more of an *NSYNC fan, so, I'm sure she wouldn't know good music if it fell on her and started to wiggle."

Both men chortled at that. "Don't tell me you like those hacks," Dean began.

They weren't the worst singers she'd ever heard in her life, but she had the feeling Dean wouldn't appreciate that. So she looked at him and said, "Nah, I'm more of a Backstreet girl."

His mouth fell open in surprise and she laughed as she laid a hand on his arm. She kind of enjoyed torturing him. She didn't know when she'd ever laughed this easily. "I'm kidding! I like music with soul. Not this crap you can't even appreciate." That much was true. It bugged her how everything had to be pulled through machines before it was extruded as music. "It's all fake now, just like cars. Plastic and cheap metal. What ever happened to the good shit, you know?"

"Exactly!" Dean crowed as she led them to her apartment door. "I mean, it's all these synthesizers and voice edits and don't even get me started on what a joke these fake musicians are."

She nodded as she unlocked three deadbolts and led the way into her place. "I know. I mean, seriously, they can't even play any musical instruments!"

She turned to wait for his continued comments, but instead, she saw Dean looked down and grin at the salt lining the door as he stepped into and out of the devil's trap she'd lain there. His eyes lifted to hers. "Want us to drink holy water?" he questioned.

She smirked, glad to see she was doing some things right if he was commenting on them. "You already did. I spiked your beers when Christa wasn't looking. Had to make sure you were you before I walked over. I didn't recognize you. Ten years made you grow up, Winchester. But your dad, he hasn't changed a bit."

"Nice place you've got, Ryan. Secure," Mr. Winchester commented as he, too, stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah, well, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Tangling with demons once in my life was once too many."

She noticed Dean winced but she was past caring what people thought about her. She was matter-of-fact about her last demon tangling. She'd had to figure out her own way of how to handle it. One of the ways she coped was to not lie about it, to herself, or really, in a round about way, to others.

"So," Dean was saying, "You know about how to protect yourself. What else have you learned?"

"I figured out you are hunters, well, Mr. Winchester, you are. I naturally assumed you were, too, Dean. But where is Sammy?"

"He's finishing up this year of high school. So he's with a friend," John answered.

She nodded. "Good. I'm glad he's…alive."

Dean chuckled flatly at that. "Yeah, alive is always good, isn't it?"

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment before she walked to the small kitchen area and grabbed two more beers from the fridge. "Here, since you didn't finish yours." She snagged a bottle of water and took a sip before she began, "So, I've done some research, and I think I know who and what this is. But, since I'm not a hunter, I thought I'd better let you handle it. I'm the one that called you, Mr. Winchester."

"John," he stated absently. "But it's good you called me. You don't need to get hurt, Ryan," he told her.

She shrugged. "Too late for that. I'm the ghost's type. I'm just waiting for it to come get me."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed. "Are you serious? Why didn't you lead with that, damn it?"

She just looked at him. What was his deal? Getting all upset about it never helped anyone. "What difference does that make? You're here, I'm here, I've got research done, it ends up being the same thing. Hell, use me for bait if you want, I don't care."

"Why?" Dean demanded.

She shrugged once more. If her dying meant killing this thing so it didn't hurt anyone else, she was game. "Nothing. Never mind. Let me show you what I have…"

She spent the next hour going over what she had found and, in turn, they told her about how to truly end a vengeful spirit. It made so much sense, to salt and burn the bones. She was glad she had them to tell her. Maybe if next time this happened, she could figure it out and handle it herself. Not that she would go looking for it…or maybe she would.

"So…how do we know who it is?" she asked. That was what had her stumped. She glanced at all the papers spread out across her kitchen table. "Michael Jeffries had a beef with a woman who cheated on him with his best friend, killed her and her twin sister for grins and giggles. And then Richard Monroe killed a woman for basically the same thing, also slashing up his secretary just because he felt like it. All the women were brunettes. Once a decade, two brunettes are killed. The cops haven't made a connection because the last two deaths were ten years ago. The only reason I made the connection at all is because of the woman murdered two nights ago. We've got until tomorrow night to figure out who it is, or I'm next."

"Why you?" Dean asked.

She snagged his beer without thinking and took a sip, wincing slightly. "God, this sucks. I've got Jack Daniels. Who wants whiskey?" At their looks, she smirked and turned to get the booze all the while having a mental nervous breakdown. _Did you just drink his beer? Did you just willingly swap spit with the man? _She was mortified. _What is your damage, Ryan? Why is he throwing you off your game so badly? _She reached up into a cabinet and pulled down the bottle. _Calm yourself, woman! _she chided softly_. So, you're acting more comfortable around him than you have any man, including your own father, in ten years. No big deal. Right? God, maybe I'm having a manic break. I knew I should have stayed in therapy. But what the fuck? How the hell was it going to help me when the therapists don't believe demons exist?! I do _not _want to go back to the nuthouse. _Twice had been enough for her.

She took in a calming breath and poured some liquor into three coffee mugs and quickly drank one down. "Who knows?" she finally answered Dean as she turned back to them and handed them their mugs. "Maybe because I remind him of his honey. Maybe because I'm living alone…"

"But, you don't have a boyfriend, do you? Much less two? That doesn't fit the profile."

She shot Dean a look and held in the sigh. _Of course he noticed you're weird, Ryan. What about you screams normal, anyway? You were fucked over by three demons as a child. Normal is so far opposite of you, your picture is in the dictionary under _Abnormal! But to him, she simply said, "Thanks for noticing I'm a social pariah, Winchester. That's not what I meant."

She pulled out the pictures of all the victims she had found and printed out. "Look at these women, then look at me. We. Look. Identical. And the other girl, Mandy, that was killed? She and I look so much alike, even our friends confuse us, and have, more than once. Of course, then she opened her mouth and people realized she was a dumbass, and I'm brilliant, but, hey, it's outside packaging."

Dean chuckled and John stated, "So, he's basing it on looks, not anything else."

She nodded. "Exactly."

"Well, that's it, isn't it?" Dean's tone was excited, causing the other two to look at him. "It's got to be Jeffries. He killed his wife and her twin. So, if it's based on looks, it's got to be him."

John shut the book he was looking at with a snap. "Exactly. I'll go break into the library, see if I can find out where he's buried. Dean, you stay with her," he added as he stood.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Why?" Ryan wanted to know in chorus with Dean as she eyed him with trepidation. It was one thing to be shut up in her apartment with both men. She knew John was a decent man. She felt it. He was a good guy. Dean…he was so beautiful, almost like a tiger. He was part predator. She could feel it.

"Because Dean knows how to handle vengeful spirits and you don't, Ryan. Because he's dealt with them before. And because you asked for our help." He turned to the door. "We're going to get a few supplies, Ryan. We'll be right back. Round up all the salt you have and anything iron, too. Dean'll be back in shortly."

She didn't bother letting them know she already had those things gathered. She had the distinct impression John wasn't what one could call a feminist. But, hey, that was alright, too. She watched them leave and then feeling her stomach grumble, decided to make something to eat.

She quickly cleaned off the table, stacking the papers and pictures up neatly. She then sat her backpack on the countertop and opened it so her poker and salt was on hand, just in case. She was just pulling a frozen pizza out of the freezer when Dean walked back in.

"You like pizza?" she asked.

He glanced at her backpack and she noticed the corner of his mouth lifted as he saw the contents. "Yeah, pizza's great."

It took a few minutes for the pizza to cook so she let him do his thing and watched from the corner of her eye as he checked her wards. She couldn't tell if he was impressed by the job she had done to secure herself or not and then she berated herself for caring about his opinion in the first place. She could, however, tell he was on high alert as he came back to sit at the small kitchen table with the gun on the chair beside him.

Her eyebrow rose as she brought the pizza over. "Well, you're certainly making me feel all secure, Dean," she deadpanned.

He chuckled. "Can't be too careful, Ryan." He held up one of the shells. "Salt round. Good for shooting demons or ghosts. It won't make the ghost stay away, but it'll blast their asses apart for a few minutes."

Wow. They really were professionals, weren't they? "Good to know."

They ate in silence for a few moments before the clock chimed. His brow furrowed. "Is that 'Unchained Melody'?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I got the clock at an auction. It's pretty." It was expensive as all hell, too, but she couldn't help herself. It had called to her. It was a gorgeous piece. It shouldn't have been as expensive as it was, but she had to have it. It wasn't anything special, in fact, there were ten of them sold that day, but she loved it. It played a different song each hour.

"You've, uh, got a nice place. It doesn't look like a college student's apartment."

Her eyebrow rose. "You mean what with all the salt lines and devil's traps?"

He chuckled. "No, that part looks like someone who's prepared. I'd feel safe sleeping here."

She nodded. "It's my safe haven."

"Are you scared a lot?"

_Wow, direct, isn't he? At least he's able to carry on a normal conversation with me. _She had wondered if the night would be uncomfortable, but she found it was easy, almost too easy, to talk to him.

He blinked. "What I mean is, I don't often get to talk to people after…all that, you know?"

She paused a moment in thought. She had been scared for so long, and it irritated her she had been scared recently. She didn't want to be. She wanted to be strong and not be a wimpy little girl. She was strong bodily now, thanks to her workouts and Tae Kwon Do and she wanted to remain that way. She shook her head. "No. I'm…I'm not scared. I was, I was terrified for years," she admitted. "But then I started reading and researching demons. And then I found out ways to stay safer." She pulled her necklace out from under her shirt. That, alone, made her feel the safest. She never took it off, not even to shower. "I found this, it's supposed to be an anti-possession sigil."

"It's pretty."

She snorted. It had caused a stir a time or two, as well, when she didn't keep it hidden under her clothes. "One of the really religious girls saw it one day and flipped her shit, thought I was a devil worshiper. Little does she know I'm about as far from devil worship as I can get."

He grinned. "Not a lot of people understand it. And they don't really want to, do they?"

She shook her head. She had come to the realization people, in general, were stupid. "People want to pretend true evil doesn't exist. We know better."

"I'm not sure if that makes us better off or not," he questioned.

She laid her hand on his arm. "I dunno, I'd rather know what's out there, myself. At least if I know what may be laying in wait, I can be prepared. Not being prepared…well, I know it isn't what got me kidnapped, but it just seems like those monsters wouldn't attack if they thought everyone knew about them, you know?" That's what she wished would happen. She wished people would open up their eyes and see what evils she saw, to know what she knew, to understand just how terrible the world really was and change it. But, that's what Dean and his family were doing, right? Being a hunter? It was a noble profession, even if it didn't pay anything.

He laid his hand on top of hers. "I wish we could to back in time and fix it, Ryan. I wish we could just…"

"Don't," she whispered as a tear ran down her face. _You can't, it's done. Don't you think I wish the same thing? _"Don't, Dean. We can't change it and we can't fix it. One of the things my therapists drilled into my head was 'you can't change the past. You can only accept it and move on.' That's what I've done. Accepted it and moved on." Even though she didn't fully believe that, she had to hold out hope that one day, she would. One day she would be normal. One day, she would be exactly who she was supposed to be.

He eyed her thoughtfully a few moments and she squirmed slightly at the close scrutiny, but more than that, she felt a thrill shoot through her. He was a gorgeous man, sitting here next to her and she was completely comfortable. That blew her away. She drank him in just as he did to her.

The spell was broken when he cleared his throat. "So, college girl, what are you going for?"

She shrugged. When she'd decided to go to college, she picked something she could do whenever she figured out what the rest of her life meant. It was a means to an end. She had good grades, though, so that was something. "I'm just going for my MBA. Nothing exciting. I just figured if I went into business, I could do whatever I wanted." She snorted as a thought came to her. "At least I'm not taking Psychology. Although, God knows, with all the therapy I've had, I'm an expert in the field." _Crap! Don't over share, Ryan!_

He chuckled. "Do you do that a lot?"

_Too late. _"What? Self depreciating humor?" She grinned. _Might as well own up to it. _"It's my best coping mechanism."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

They were both quiet a moment and she reveled in the peace being with him had brought her tonight. She loved everything about this, sitting here, eating dinner with him, touching him…wait. Touching him? He was still holding her hand. She pulled it away quickly, startled. She looked away then glanced back at him. He didn't seem upset she had snatched her hand away from him. That was…good. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, And wasn't that more than a little confusing?

Finally, he broke the silence, "How's your dad? I bet he's really proud of you being in college."

She had known eventually he would ask about him. She wiped her mouth and stated solemnly, "He died. About three years ago."

"I'm sorry," he told her softly.

She took in a breath. His death hadn't been as hard as she thought it should be. She had become detached from everyone as she recovered from her ordeal with the demons, causing a strain on their relationship. She hadn't really let her father in for years. She knew there was something wrong with her, but she didn't know how to fix it. Of course, he hadn't recovered from her mother's death, either. She had never told him it was demons. Even at eleven years old, she knew it sounded crazy.

"Yeah, heart attack," she said finally. "No one was expecting it. After…after Mom died, it was hard, you know? I mean, your wife's killed, your daughter's crazy, people talked." She didn't look at him as the words came spilling out of her mouth. "We moved to another town. Once I was high-school age, I did all my schooling through a correspondence course he found. Anything practical he found me a tutor for. I…I wasn't ready to be around teenagers. I couldn't cope and they couldn't handle having a freak in their classes, so I just…faded away." She sucked in a breath. "When Dad died, it…freed me in a way. He was my crutch. Once he wasn't here to keep me tethered, I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself." _Understatement of the century, Ryan. _She didn't like reflecting on that time of her life, so she shrugged. "I went a little wild, then, I decided to make something of my life." He didn't need to know about the struggles day-to-day, about how she longed for it all to just be over. How she had cried herself to sleep, praying something would kill her in the night up until that day of clarity, when she came off her meds.

"That's good," Dean offered, clearly uncomfortable.

She sighed. _He doesn't want to know your sob story, Ry. Just suck it up and deal._ She couldn't believe she had told him all she had. No one, not even her therapists, got this much information out of her, yet all he had to do was give her puppy dog eyes the color of grass and she was baring her soul to him. It made her uncomfortable, to let him this close. Not physically, although, his proximity to her was sending off alarm bells in her head, but the emotional connection. It wasn't…normal for her and it scared her to her toes."Are we in for the night? I think I might shower and get comfy."

He nodded. "Yeah, Dad will call me when it's done, so you're good."

She put her hand on his arm one more time. For some reason, she couldn't stoptouch this man. "Thanks, Dean. Really." She meant it. Maybe she did need to start bearing her soul more often. It was cathartic. She felt a peace she hadn't in ages.

He smiled. "My pleasure."

She stood and walked away, hurriedly gathering her night clothes from her bedroom before she shut herself in the bathroom. Nothing relaxed her like a steaming hot shower. She was wound tight, too tight, like a pocket watch that might break from a child playing with it. She had a pretty good idea why, too. Of course, a figurative noose around her neck was making her uptight, but she had the distinct impression it was Dean that was the cause of her discomfort, oddly enough, because she _was _so comfortable around him. She couldn't believe she had touched his arm. He had held her hand! She had smiled at him and looked him in the eye through most of dinner. She hadn't felt this comfortable around a man, well, since him, when she was eleven years old, sitting out on their back deck, teaching him how to play poker. It was sweet and innocent, just like that night had been.

When she emerged from the shower, wet hair hanging limply down her back, he was sitting on the sofa watching TV. She walked over and sat with him on the couch, since that was the only piece of furniture in the room. He turned to her and she noticed was trying, and failing, to not look at her. It should have made her uncomfortable to realize he was blatantly staring at her chest, but instead, she felt a warm sensation flooding though her. Desire. It was desire she felt. How odd.

Just then, his hand snaked out in a flash, grabbing her arm. "What did you do?!"

She blinked and pulled away from him, more than a little frightened. "What?"

He grabbed her arm again, none too gently, and flipped it over, thumbing the rope of a scar going down the length of it. She cringed as he inspected her other arm, revealing its twin. "What the fuck did you do?"

She shoved him away and stood. Of course. She had forgotten to slip on a long-sleeved shirt. She always got the third degree when people saw her scars. "It's none of your fucking business, Dean."

"I didn't save your life just for you to kill yourself, Ryan!" he bellowed as he stood as well.

"It is none of your business, Dean!" she screamed again. Geez, didn't he realize what she did with her life was just that? _Her _life?

"I'm fucked up, okay?" she admitted quietly, but then the anger built. "And I have been! Ever since I was eleven! Do you think you did me any favors? Left me with memories of killing my mother? Left me with memories of what those-those things _did _to me? Monsters are real and everyone thought I was batshit crazy! I was on every single medication under the sun for _years_ before I finally had enough of it!"

Her voice grew softer and her voice caught as she tried and failed to reign in the tears. "I had enough of it. The memories, the pain, the anger, the hurt, the…" She sucked in a hiccough. "Look, I don't expect you to understand. I'm…I'm broken, Dean. I'm a disabled unit. I can't have kids. I can't even stand for a man to be near me, to…touch me even in the most innocent of ways, let alone be intimate. I thought, maybe, once…" She paused, trying not to shiver as she remembered that night, just a month after her nineteenth birthday, the haze of confusion, the attempted kisses, the fright, the hands pawing her, the screams and shouts…

"I got doped up, high as a kite on a combination of God only knows what and Ecstasy and thought maybe I could…" she stopped as she remembered. Poor Tom. She hadn't meant to freak out on him. He was nice, sweet even. He was an innocent casualty in her spiral of fucked-up crazy. "He was hovering over me and I just couldn't deal." She remembered hooking her legs under his stomach, pushing him off of her, onto the floor, screaming, kicking, all but beating him to death before she was physically pulled off of him.

"I hurt him, broke his arm and three of his ribs before I'd realized it…" She closed her eyes and shook her head. She had been off the meds, her father dead, what harm was it to try something recreational? So, when Tom had taken her hand and led her up the stairs to his room, she hadn't thought anything about it. She had wondered how she'd even gotten invited to the party in the first place, wondered why she went, but she had. Now she had a rap sheet. The Mayor hadn't taken it well when his son had been beaten half to death by a hundred and ten pound crazy girl.

When she opened her eyes, she stared right at the man standing before her. He looked so hurt for her and she hated seeing the pity in his eyes. "I'm ruined, Dean. So, I tried to end it. Sue me."

"You didn't die," he stated dumbly.

She snorted. "No, no I didn't die. I almost did. The doctors..." She shook her head as she remembered words like _miracle, _and _amazing,_ and the phrase that caused the biggest eye roll of all; _angels must be watching over you_. "One of the nurses," _the only nurse not scared of me, that is, _"said I must have a guardian angel watching over me." She had always wondered if maybe that nurse _knew _the truth. If she believed her when Ryan talked about the demons that attacked her. Not that it mattered. The whole thing pissed her off. _Angels must be watching over you, _the nurse had said. "To which I call bullshit," she finished. "If I did, none of that stuff in that barn, or what followed, would have happened. But it did. And now I'm a shell of a person, alive, but not living."

"You said you were fine…" he started.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you know what F.I.N.E. stands for, right?" she snarled. "Fucked up. Insecure. Neurotic. And Emotional. I'd say that sums me up nicely."

They stood there, faced off, breathing hard, when his cell rang. "What?!" he ground out as his eyes bore into hers. He must have been listening to someone on the other end because then he blinked, then asked, "Did he put up a fight?"

Everything must have went well and the ghost was gone. She turned and started pacing by the window and he continued, "Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll…I'll find a way."

_Good. He'll be leaving soon. You can hold it together a few more minutes before you break down and cry like the little girl you are, _she thought as she stopped and stared down into the night. It looked so peaceful out there.

"Don't worry about it, Dad. See you later." He snapped the phone shut, and to Ryan, said, "He salted and burned the bones. You should be fine now."

"Thanks," she bit out.

He walked to her and stood, just touching her, behind her. She could feel the heat radiating from him. She knew it should bother her, knew she should be scared, but she wasn't. This man didn't frighten her. He turned her on, he drove her crazy, he…

"Look," he started softly, "I've thought about you every day since that night. I'm sorry I failed."

She spun around and slapped him in the face. "Fuck you, Dean. What those monsters did, it wasn't on you. It wasn't on your father. It was them. _They _chose to take me. _They _did those awful things. _It _chose to-to possess me. That's fine, I accept that. And you…you saved my life. I…I may not fully appreciate that fact, but one day I will. So, I'm sorry. I don't expect you to understand what it's like for me."

She turned back around to look at the inky night, baring her soul to him without a thought. "I'm terrified, but at the same time, nothing scares me. I walk alone every night, just listening to the quiet. Half the time I'm praying something _will _try to kill me, and honestly, half of me hopes it does. I want to be normal so badly, but I know I never will be. And maybe one day, that will be okay, too."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. She wanted to tense up, but for some reason, her body relaxed at his touch and she leaned into him as her eyes fell shut. "You lived for a reason, Ryan. Twice." _Three times, _she wanted to correct him, but she didn't. The demon. The pills. The wrists, or rather, arms, she'd slashed. Three times she had tempted fate, and three times she had returned to the land of the living. He was right. It was just as she suspected. Something wanted her alive. "Now, I don't believe in angels and fate and all that crap, but I do believe there is something out there bigger than us. And maybe, just maybe, it wants you alive for some reason. For some great purpose."

"What does it want you for?" she questioned softly as she kept her eyes closed, reveling in the sensation of being in his arms. She could have slept there, he relaxed her so.

He chuckled. "Well, to save people, to kill things that go bump in the night, to be the man every woman dreams of…"

They shared a laugh and she leaned into him further, almost melting from the heat of him as it warmed her from the inside out. "You know, this is the closest I've ever let a man near. For a while there, I couldn't even stand for my father to hug me. Why is it I'm so comfortable around you?"

He turned her then and she lifted her lashes looked into his gorgeous eyes. They spoke volumes to her and she almost gasped at what she saw there. Desire, pure and unadulterated longing for her. For _her_. He wanted her, as damaged as she was. It sent a thrill running through her. No fear, not yet, just that longing pooling in her stomach. "I saved your life, Ryan. I would never hurt you. I saved you. I'll save you a million times if I need to."

She wasn't sure what made her do it, but she stood on tip-toe and touched her lips to his. He tightened his grip on her ever so slightly as he deepened the kiss. She whimpered as the feelings swept over her. Yes, this is what it was supposed to be. These were the things she was supposed to be feeling. She was supposed to let this man touch her, taste her, care for her…

He pulled away just slightly and she opened her eyes to look into those emerald pools of his. "Let me show you, Ryan. I swear I won't hurt you. Let me show you how good it can be."

She took in an unsteady breath through her nose and shook her head, panic setting in. She couldn't…she couldn't let him do _that _with her, could she?

Dean removed his hands from around her and held them both up in a truce. "Look, I may not know much, but I know a little bit about a lot of things, and one thing I'm damn fine at is making women feel good. I swear I just want you to see what you're missing. I promise to make it good for you."

He couldn't possibly want to… "Dean…" Why would he even _want _to be with someone as broken as her?

"You can say 'no' at any time and I swear I'll stop. Hell, we can play poker all night if you want." At that, she smiled, remembering their first night together, the innocence of it. "Please? I just…I don't know, Ryan, I feel like I need to do this for you."

She swallowed hard and shook her head again. There was no way she could ever possibly have sex with anyone. Surely, she had gotten herself off before, frequently in fact. The first time was just to make sure she wasn't completely broken in that aspect. The knife the demon used hadn't slashed through all of her nerve endings. It had destroyed a lot, but she remained sensitive and able to feel pleasure. That was a relief to find out. After that first experimental probing, she found she liked it. It was normal. It was natural. She was a woman, after all. She did have those needs, those feelings, but she couldn't let _him _do those things with her.

"Please?" he implored softly.

The question of why was on the tip of her tongue. "Dean…" her voice caught in her throat. Instead of asking why, her brain was now asking why not? Why not let him show her how good it could be? She trusted him. And he swore he would stop. But what if…? _No, don't be a chicken, Ryan. Dean wants this, he wants to help you. He's saved your life twice now. Let him do this. Let him help you, damn it. _Finally, she nodded. "Okay."

He gave her a small smile and held out a hand for her. She took it warily and he led her into her bedroom, stopping at the foot of her bed. She licked her lips nervously. "N-now what?"

He smiled. "Now, you empty that pretty little head of yours and concentrate on the moment." His hands slowly ran up her arms and rested on her shoulders. "I'll go slow," he promised.

She just nodded and resisted the urge to run.

"Do you…have you touched yourself?"

She smiled despite herself. "You seriously just asked me if I masturbate?"

He chuckled nervously. "Uh…yes?"

Her grin grew and some of the tension broke. "Yes, I have and yes, I do."

He nodded. "Okay. Show me."

"What?! I'm not going to…" she was cut off as he pulled her to him and kissed her lips once more. The kiss grew heated and she felt his tongue gently asking entrance, which she granted and she greedily suckled it, reveling in the taste of him.

"Ryan," he purred when he broke away, panting slightly, "I asked you to show me."

"How?"

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll just be right here."

Her eyebrow rose, but she nodded slightly before slipping her pants down, letting them pool at her feet. Thankfully she had worn just some plain white panties. She would have died if he had seen her penguin Popsicle ones.

He smiled that smile again and she felt her heart stutter. _Okay, you can do this, _she thought as she slid onto the bed. "Are-are you sure this is what I should be doing?"

He shrugged as he slid out of his denim shirt. "This is new for me, too, Ryan."

At her exasperated look, he blushed. "Well, not the sex thing, I haven't been a virgin in a long time, sweetheart." His look was almost ashamed. "But I figured if you forgot I was here, maybe you could relax, then I could just, you know, take over."

"Like I can forget you're here with your sex smile and your perfect body and your great hair," she muttered, earning a genuine grin from him.

"Sex smile?" he questioned. She shot him a look, causing his grin to turn teasing. "Oh, I'm using that one as blackmail, Ry," he threw out as he slipped his tee shirt off. She tensed despite herself and he held up both hands again. "Look. I'm still mostly dressed, okay? I'm just…getting comfortable."

Her mouth dried out as she took in the perfect form of him. He was absolutely the most gorgeous man on the face of the planet. She would dare anyone to find someone more attractive than him. Why on God's green earth would he want to be with her? He could go out and have any woman he wanted on the whole damn campus. Why her?

"Stop thinking," he commanded softly.

She nodded uncertainly and slipped her tank off over her head, showing him she hadn't worn a bra.

"Wow. That's hot," he muttered, causing her to look at him again. "Sorry," he whispered. "I'm not here."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, willing her racing heart to calm, ignoring him as she reached over to her drawer where her little fingertip vibrator was waiting. She slipped it on her finger, got a dollop of lube, then slipped her hand inside her underwear. She heard him moving about the room, but she concentrated on herself, keeping her eyes closed as she let the sensations lull her. Music came on, light and soft, and entirely too girly for what she figured he would be into, but she appreciated the gesture.

"I like classic rock," she muttered as she made another decision and slid her underwear down her legs. She knew she had an attractive body, save for the numerous scars that adorned her body, from the ones on her arms, to the ones on her legs from her cutting, to the ones on her lower abdomen; one from his knife, and the other from the surgery that removed her uterus. She hadn't been old enough to realize what the organ did at the time, but she mourned its loss as she grew older, hating the scar every time she looked in the mirror.

But now, she didn't concentrate on that, instead, focused on that little vibration that was beginning to start things stirring as she huffed out a breath. She heard the radio dial moving and "Black Velvet" came on. "Oh, God, yes," she muttered. "That song always gets me hot," she confessed before biting her lip at the declaration.

She felt the bed dip and she tensed up once again, but he didn't touch her, not yet. She heard a chuckle and a voice, close, whispered, "Me too. And now, I will always associate it with you. Thanks for that," he breathed, his hot breath fanning across her skin. "Now I'll get a fucking woody every time it comes on the radio."

She whimpered at his admission but kept her eyes closed as she began moving the vibrator, feeling its buzz on her clit, causing her to moan slightly. As she began moving it, she felt his hands traveling over her, but at this point, she wasn't startled, in fact, she reveled in his touch as he gently began feather light explorations of her skin. His hands were firm, slightly calloused, dry, but not rough, never rough. She could smell him, the masculine scent of him surrounding her, taking her senses higher, to places she hadn't been before. When his mouth slowly closed over her nipple, her eyes shot open and she looked at him, brown eyes piercing green as his other hand continued its discovery of her body.

"You're so gorgeous," he muttered as his hand traveled down, down, down, to hover above hers as she continued to work herself over. "May I?" he asked and she nodded.

He slipped one finger inside, then another, stretching her gently as her hips began to rock. Her cries and moans grew louder as he helped her find her way to the precipice and his lips captured hers as she fell over the edge.

"Was that okay?" he inquired gently as he pulled away slightly.

She smiled feeling more relaxed than she had in her entire life. "That was perfect."

"Can…may I take this to the next level?"

It was then she noticed he was completely naked and she could easily see the strain this was on him.

She swallowed hard as she looked at him. She, of course, knew the anatomy of sex. She had watched a handful of porno movies, but this…this was new territory and the fear came back, just slightly. "I…uh…"

He smiled and kissed her lips once more. "Tell ya what, let's let you do something this time."

"What was I doing earlier? Taking a Sunday stroll?"

He chortled. "I can honestly say I've not enjoyed sex this much before. You're fun, Ryan."

"Thanks?" she offered.

He moved their hands, which were still hovering near her core and he kissed her as he slipped the vibrator off of her fingertip, tossing it to the table where it buzzed until it fell to the floor. "Let's switch places. I'll be on the bottom, you take control. Do what feels right."

"Are you sure?" He seemed like the type that liked to be in control of things in this department.

"Abso-friggin-lutely," he muttered as he lay down. "Come here, woman," he demanded gently.

She smiled as she aligned her body with his, laying on top of him. She could feel the hardness of him and it scared her just slightly. "Now what?" she asked.

He smiled and ran his hands gently over her body, massaging her neck, back, and buttocks soothingly. "Now, just do whatever feels right."

She blinked once, twice, swallowed hard, and slowly let her legs fall to either side of him. She felt him there, just there, teasing her already sensitive flesh and she gasped. "Oh, God," she muttered.

He didn't move as she rocked slowly, still not ready to give him entrance. "You know," she whispered as she felt him rubbing her. "You're wrong. You are the beautiful one," she muttered as she bent to kiss his chest.

"Ryan, God help me, you're amazing."

"I'm not doing anything," she stated uncertainly.

He grinned. "No, but you're still amazing to let me this close."

She bit her lip and maneuvered her hips slightly and she felt it then, felt him, and she rocked, hard, until he was seated inside her.

They let out joint groans of pleasure as she began moving. "I…am I doing this right?" she asked.

"Honey, there's no wrong way to do it and if anyone tells you otherwise then they're full of shit."

She grinned down at him. "Well then, okay."

He smiled back up at her and pulled her down to kiss her lips. "You're amazing," he stated once more.

She continued to move until she felt the quickening begin again and he held her hips as she rode out the sensations before she weakly slid down to his chest. That had been…she couldn't think of an adjective at the moment. Incredible barely covered it.

"Can we try it the other way now?" he inquired gently.

She lifted her head and nodded uncertainly and he rolled them so he was on top. "I'll stop if you want…"

She shook her head and grasped his face with both of her hands. His eyes were almost shining as he looked down at her. He was beautiful, inside and out, and in a moment like this, as they were connected, she felt she could almost see his soul and it was stunningly beautiful. "No, this…this is perfect."

He smiled once again as he began moving faster, gaining momentum until she felt the thrill racing towards her one more time and she held her breath as the sensations washed over her and stars burst behind her eyes.

She was boneless as he moved away to turn onto his back once more, bringing her flush against him. He kissed her forehead and she laid her head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

"Thank you," she managed as she kissed the skin she could reach. "Thank you so much, Dean."

"Believe me. The pleasure was all mine."

The sun was rising when she woke and looked at him. His gaze caught hers as she smiled. "Good morning."

"Hey," he managed, his voice gravelly from sleep. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," she responded. _I did it. I had sex. Great sex. Of course, why should I be surprised that he could do that well, too? Can't he do everything well? _She felt sure he could. She bit her lip and then kissed his, tenderly. "Thank you," she told him again.

He pulled her to him once and kissed her forehead, each cheek, then finally, her mouth. "Thank you for letting me, for being strong enough for me to show you how good it could be."

She giggled and threw herself onto her back, stretching languidly. She was a new person today. She felt it. It wasn't just the sex, although, that was, she felt sure, the best she would probably ever have. No other man could possibly treat her as gently and as treasured as he did last night. But she felt a new hope dawning, brightening her life like the sun rising over the ocean at daybreak. "I'm pretty damn sure it's you I should be thanking. My God…you're a professional, Dean. I'm fairly certain you could get a masters degree in sex."

He chuckled shyly and she enjoyed seeing the blush darken the apples of his cheeks as he turned to face her fully. "Yeah, well…" Suddenly, a mischievous grin lit his features. "If you think I'm good at that, you should see what I can do with my tongue."

_Fuck, _she thought with a whimper. Yeah, she'd read about cunnilingus. She had no doubts about his talents in that area, either.

He moved over her and she felt the thrill go through her, but then he glanced at the clock and winced.

She sighed and smiled. _And it's over…_"You've got to go."

He hung his head and his forehead touched hers. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of him there, over her, his head resting on hers. She was going to miss it already.

"Yeah, Dad'll be up soon and probably ready to go since your spook is gone."

She nodded in understanding. She knew this wasn't a forever sort of thing. She wasn't in a position to handle it even if it was. "Okay."

Still he didn't move from on top of her. His weight was a comfort. Their eyes met. "I, uh, probably ought to call Dad…let him know to come get me."

She smirked, just a little. He was cute as fuck when he was flustered.

"Look, it's not, like, the walk of shame or anything."

Her smirk grew. She had the distinct impression Dean slept with a lot of girls, and regretted none of them. It didn't bother her in the least. A bumbling virgin wouldn't have known how to treat her last night, anyway. She needed someone with the experience to know how to help her best.

He cleared his throat.

She laughed at his obvious discomfort and kissed his lips, resisting the urge to wrap her legs around his waist and not let him leave. She could hold him ransom, couldn't she? John would understand. Dean needed a day to just chill, didn't he? But still…she knew he had to leave. So she kept up the teasing as she asked, "Would you like to borrow my phone?"

"No. I'll, uh, I'll call him." He cleared his throat again and asked, "Mind if I use your shower?"

She shook her head. "Be my guest."

He stood and strode clad in his underwear to gather his clothes before hitting the bathroom. She wondered when he'd slid them back on and realized he must have done it purely for her benefit. She felt her heart stumble a bit at the thought. He was one of the kindest men she'd ever met. She would be sorry to see him go, but this was right. He had a job to do. But that didn't mean it had to be a forever kind of goodbye. She stood and blushed slightly at the sight of all the clothes strewn about the room, his and hers alike. Though he'd picked up his tee and his jeans, there were still two shirts of his and her pajamas lying about. She dressed in the pajamas again and quickly wrote down her number on a piece of paper. It would be up to him to call her if he wanted to.

When he emerged from the bathroom she was sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs with her head on her knees.

She watched him slide first one shirt on and then the other. "So…" he began.

"So…" she started at the same time. They both laughed. She uncurled herself and stood. "Look, Dean, thanks. For everything."

"You gonna be okay?"

She took in a deep breath, blew it out, and smiled. "Yeah, I think I might be. Won't be long and I'll be graduating, then off into the real world. Whatever that means."

He laughed. "Well, good. You're smart. Stay smart. And stay away from things that go bump in the night."

She snorted and shook her head. She wasn't going to do that. She knew it. Maybe she needed to try this hunting thing. She knew all about the big bad nasties of the world. Maybe she could make a difference just like Dean and his family did. But to him, she said, "I'll try."

She fiddled with the piece of paper that held her number before she sucked up the courage and handed it to him. "Here's my number. Just…if you ever need a friend, Dean, call me, kay?"

He took the paper from her and nodded. "Yeah. I will." He snagged a sticky note off her desk and wrote down his own. "Here's mine. You ever think about ending it again, you call me, understand?"

She wasn't sure she would call him, even if the depression got bad again, but she appreciated the gesture. She bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good." He leaned over and kissed her lips once more. "I'll see you around, shortcake."

She smiled at the nickname. She was average height for a normal person. He was just exceptionally tall. "Sounds good, Winchester."

He turned and walked out of her life. She fingered the sticky note in her hand. _I won't need to call you, Dean. You helped with healing me, though I'm not finished, yet. Now I'll go make a difference in the world._

* * *

**AN2: Soooo…hopefully you liked it. I love Ryan. I can't help it. She's quickly become one of my favorite OC's. Until next time, when we travel back to New Orleans. Gotta gank a few witches and spend a little more time with Dean and Ryan…and find out WHY Ryan ditched him the next morning! **

**Until next week, my lovelies…**


	10. Life in the Fast Lane

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Supernatural. If I DID own it, I would be in Dallas at the con right now talking with Jared and Jensen instead of not getting paid to write about them. *sigh***

**AN: Wow, guys! Fifteen followers and nineteen reviews! Thank you so much! This is Ryan's point of view of chapter three. This is where things get...sticky. I hope you all are holding on, because the ride is about to get VERY interesting. And if it's not your thing, hey, that's cool too. But if you've stuck with me this long, you were bound to realize something weird, nay, SUPERNATURAL was going on. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**FIVE YEARS LATER** (Ryan's POV of Chapter Three)

Ryan scrubbed her hands over her face. God help her, she couldn't stand the thought of witches. Harry Potter's world, they were not. Sure, she could see the benefit of spells, and had met a hunter or two that used them, but as a whole, witches were bad fucking news.

She blew out a breath and headed back to her motel. She was no closer to finding this coven than she was two days ago. So far she had talked to three different tourists that had been hit by these witches. It was petty, but at the same time, malicious. And the cruel undertones were getting worse. There were now also two fatalities she could link back to this particular coven. From what she could tell, they were accelerating rapidly. The last living victim lost all his teeth and hair after losing all his money from his bank account. It was weird. Well, weirder than usual, in any case.

She pulled up to The Sunset Inn and gathered her backpack and snagged her phone from the passenger seat, thinking. She could call Bobby to come give her a hand with this, see if there was something she had missed. She had been on the case for days already. Bobby was such a cool guy, but she wanted to do this by herself. She could handle it, couldn't she? She paused a moment as she pulled up his number and looked at it. She had exactly five numbers stored in her phone. Bobby Singer, John Winchester, Caleb, who she really should delete on principle, Mark Campbell, and Dean Winchester.

She hovered over Dean's number and sighed. Five years had been a long time. What was he doing now? How much had he changed? She knew she had changed as well. She no longer wanted to die, and often fought harder than she thought possible to stay alive when she was facing down monsters. She had traveled North and South America to find out as much as she could about things that went bump in the night, even met up with another female hunter down in Brazil she had considered staying with after they killed a chupacabra together, but Bobby had called, asked if she wanted to help on a nasty ghoul case, and who was she to turn down some ghouls? So, she'd returned to the States. She had just finished with that case when she caught wind of these witches in New Orleans. Bobby had left to check on some of his hunting friends, so she had traveled alone to the Big Easy to check into this case.

She glanced at her phone again. _Dean…_she thought with a smile as all other thoughts left her head. If she could have created a perfect man, she felt sure he would have been a duplicate of Dean Winchester. Of course, she knew he had his faults, Bobby had often regaled her with stories about the Winchesters, Dean especially, who she noticed he had a real soft spot for, and she absorbed them like they were water and she was a sponge. She was surprised she hadn't run up on him in the five years of hunting she had done since she had seen him last, but, figuring all her travel had something to do with it, she hadn't mused on it too long. Besides, she knew it was for the best. She'd only met one couple that hunted together. It wouldn't have worked, anyway. Dean didn't seem like a one-woman kind of guy, and if she were honest with herself, she was still too damaged to have a normal relationship. Caleb was proof of that.

She shook her head as she thought of the older hunter. It had started innocently enough, the flirting, the teasing, then he'd tried to kiss her. She brushed it off as too much booze late one night at a bar, celebrating the demise of a vampire nest they'd conquered together, but when he'd all but refused to listen to her telling him 'no' outside her motel room door, she'd had to cut him off at the knees, so to speak. She couldn't do it. She thought, maybe, since Dean, she could try to be normal, to have guys in her bed, but she couldn't. No man made her feel safe like Dean did. She couldn't let herself relax enough to even kiss another man, much less get naked with him.

So, she'd dealt with it, becoming comfortable with internet porn and the magic fingers on the bed along with her vibrator and the sense of relaxation when she finished. It wasn't the same as Dean, but it would have to do.

She slipped her phone in her pocket and walked into her room. She shook her head as she sat down before her laptop and started doing some more research. She had to figure out how to take care of these damn witches and how the hell to find them.

The man she interviewed stated that there had been a woman that came up to him, a beautiful woman, who had pulled him into a building. No, he couldn't remember where it was, he'd been more than a little drunk at the time, but it was just outside The French Quarter. There had been three men in there and he had been worried about what they were up to, but they had been playing cards as the woman had shown him his future. The whole thing stunk of hinky to Ryan. She pulled up abandoned buildings near where the man supposedly had his fortune told to him by the woman and found three possible locations.

Figuring she couldn't do anything else that night, she decided to call it an evening. She was exhausted from burning the midnight oil for the past few nights and talking to witnesses all day and if she went out and found the witches, she wanted to be on her game. So she walked to the bathroom and started the water for a nice, relaxing bath, and called a Chinese delivery service for some Beef Lo Mein and some spring rolls. After giving them her room number and an assurance that the food would arrive within the hour, she stripped down and slipped into the bubbles. The tub wasn't the greatest in the world, but it would get the job done. _Would it kill places to have tubs deep enough to cover my knees and boobs? _she wondered as she closed her wasn't overly tall, but this was just ridiculous.

She put her head back and felt the calm wash over her as some Bon Jovi played from her little iPod dock she always brought with her. She had almost dozed off when something felt…off. She sat up suddenly and felt the room spin as her stomach pitched and she gagged, vomiting blood. Her eyes narrowed as she somehow managed to slither out of the tub and gasped as the violent sickness wracked her body. Her first thought was _what is wrong with me? _But it was quickly followed by a worse thought…hex bag! She somehow managed to writhe to the bathroom cabinet and looked around for the bag but didn't find it. She stood on shaky legs, vomited again, and lurched forward to the toilet. She pulled the lid off and looked inside, not finding anything in there, either.

She felt weak and knew this would kill her if she didn't move fast. She tried her hardest to run out into the main room and began looking even as she choked again and she grabbed the trash can as she was sick once more.

The weakness overcame her and she fell, hitting her head on the floor as her arms went out from under her. Dizziness and nausea warred within her as unconsciousness threatened to overcome her. She looked around frantically and managed to catch a glimpse of something under her bed. She rolled and grabbed it before stumbling her way to her jeans and dug through her pockets for her lighter. She flicked it once, twice, almost passed out, and finally managed to get it to light, then flung both the hex bag and the lighter in the metal trashcan, burning its entire contents.

She fell back to the floor panting as the sensations left her as quickly as they came. Just then, a knock sounded on the door. "We Will Wok You, Chinese food!"

She glanced at the clock. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes since she had called in the order. She let out a flat little laugh. "Better late than never."

PAGE BREAK

She was pissed. She had cleaned herself up, paid the guy, told him to take the food back with him, because she was still nauseated, took a shower, and now she was roaring mad. How dare those fucking witches try to kill her? Obviously they didn't know who they were dealing with.

She wrote down the addresses of the abandoned buildings near The French Quarter and dashed to Demon, slipping behind the wheel. "Mother fuckers trying to fucking kill me, fucking with my fucking_ life_…" she fumed as the engine roared to life. She flipped on the cassette player and The Eagles screamed about heartache, but she wasn't quite in the mood for that song so she rewound the cassette until "Hotel California" came on. It wasn't quite hard enough to fit her pissed off mood, but she went with it as she drove to her destination, too mad to reach back for her duffle with her music in it.

She reached the first building and found nothing, same with the second, but on the third one, she hit jackpot…in the form of a gorgeous black 1967 Chevy Impala. "Well, helloooo Winchesters…" she commented as she stood and slid her gun in its holster. She slipped to the building just in time to see a man hit Dean on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious and dragging him to a new Mercedes Benz.

"Great," she muttered under her breath. She briefly wondered where John was, or if Sammy was hunting with them now, but decided she couldn't wait to find out as she dashed back to her car and followed along behind the Benz at a safe distance for almost an hour, down the road to a warehouse. She watched another man get out of a parked car, waiting. She eyed them through her night-vision goggles as the two men struggled to get Dean's dead weight through the door of the building.

"Damn it, Dean. Why are you such a dumbass?" she questioned softly before she made her way to the warehouse. She slipped inside undetected as she heard the two men arguing about what to do with Dean. She found him just coming to, struggling against his ropes.

"Shhhh," she whispered as she came up behind him. "Don't move."

He stayed still as she sliced through the ropes before he stood quickly and rounded on her. "Ryan?!"

"Shhh, damn it, Dean! They'll hear you!"

"Too late," a voice sing-songed. "And now we get two for the price of one. Shame, you had to have your girlfriend save your life, only for me to end it."

"Shame the hex bag didn't work," the other one stated in a nasally voice. "You should be fucking dead, _huntress_," he growled.

She glared at him. "No thanks to you, I almost was. Luckily, you're a sloppy ass witch and did a shitty job of hiding the hex bag in the first place. Under my bed? Really? Try for some originality next time! Hide it in the bathroom vent or the a/c ducts or something. It's almost like you _wanted _me to find it."

"Ryan," Dean warned. "Not helping!" he hissed.

She just looked at him and she couldn't help the smile. Damn, was she glad to see him. She hadn't realized it until right this very moment.

Dean grinned at the two witches. "Hey, come on, guys, it's a party, right? Fucking Mardi Gras is going on! Let's just go out, get drunk, have Ryan get us some beads, have a few laughs, it'll be fun."

She just glared at him. "The only person seeing my tits tonight is you, and there's no guarantees about that, Winchester," she growled.

"Oh, come on, babe, seriously? Five years? And you don't want this?" he gestured up and down his body. "I'm awesome."

She rolled her eyes. "You're also egotistical and a shitty hunter to let these two losers get the drop on you."

He shrugged. "Not my finest hour, granted, but, hey, give me a handicap."

"Why should I?" she teased.

"Enough!" the one witch shouted as his eyes narrowed and he lunged just as Ryan moved, catching him with her waiting knife. He howled in pain and she felt the thrill of the hunt as she flipped the man over and stabbed him in the heart, killing him. She was so intent on the witch beneath her, she didn't noticed the other one coming up on her until he knocked her down, forcing her breath from her before he turned and attacked Dean.

The fight was on. She watched and tried to regain her breath as the men traded punches before the witch got the better of Dean and tossed him into the wall. It dazed him for just a moment, she could tell, and she was trying to suck in air to get to him before she saw him shake his head, blink, and narrow his eyes as he growled and he rushed the other man, knocking him back into a steel girder. They continued their fight for a few more moments before Dean had him in a headlock.

Ryan saw her knife on the floor and skittered to it before calling out, "Dean! Catch!" and threw her knife at him. He caught it and deftly slit the man's throat.

She stood and spat as he shoved the man to the floor, "God help me, but I hate witches. Nasty pieces of work." She looked up at Dean. "Don't suppose you know where the rest of the coven is, do you? I mean, I'm enjoying the hell out of New Orleans, but before pleasure commences, I'd like to TCB, ya know?"

She spared a glance at the two bodies at her feet before she stepped over them and headed outside. Two down, two to go.

"Wait, wait a damn minute, Ryan," Dean called out as he followed behind her. "What do you think you're doing?" He pursued her as she went to her car. She unlocked the trunk and opened it, digging through her arsenal until she found a towel, and held out a hand for the knife he still held.

This was her favorite blade. It had saved her ass a handful of times already. "Following a lead," she stated as she finished wiping down the knife and stowed it back in its holster on her side. "I heard through the grapevine that some serious hoodoo was going on down here, stuff out of the ordinary."

She motioned to the abandoned warehouse as she twisted her hair back up into its clip. "One of those sons of bitches put a hex bag in my hotel room." She was still seething and her head still ached from the blow when she'd landed and almost passed out. "I took it real personal. I saw the one dude hit you over the head and drag you to a car. So, I followed him, then saw those two drag you in there." She smiled. "Lucky thing I came along, Dean. Where's your dad?"

"He's on another job," he stated hotly. "And I was doing fine on my own, damn it!"

She rolled her eyes. She had forgotten how much fun it was to get his goat. She loved seeing the fire in his gorgeous eyes. "Sure, if that's what you want to tell yourself." She paused, then said, "Look, I know for a fact the coven has another man and a woman in it. Word is they're small timers, but they've got serious juice. I haven't found a connection to a demon yet, have you?"

He shook his head. "No. I checked. They're flying solo, but they're screwing over travelers that want to come down here and see some magic in action. Dumb tourists."

She let out a snort at his comment. There was no love lost for her with idiots that wanted to see real magic. "I guess you need a ride back to your car, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

She slammed the trunk shut and made her way to the driver's side. "You coming?"

He slid into the passenger seat and she cranked the engine. She flipped on the radio and the cassette kicked in. "New Kid in Town" went off and "Life in the Fast Lane" began blaring from the speakers. This was one of her favorite songs. The first verse always reminded her of Dean, actually. He was, after all, brutally handsome, and well, hell, they _were _good in bed, at least, she thought so.

She sang the words under her breath as they continued along until he asked, "The Eagles? Seriously?"

She shot him a look. "It could be worse. I was listening to Restless Heart yesterday."

At his grimace, she laughed. "The Eagles were my daddy's favorite band." She reached in the backseat and pulled out the small duffle bag that held her precious tunes collection. "Here are more cassettes. Pick one."

"You'll let me choose?" he asked, sounding surprised.

She laughed. She could only imagine what it must be like traveling with someone, having to share listening space. "I never have anyone riding with me. Go ahead."

He dug around through the pile of cassettes and finally pulled out one of her Def Leopard albums. "Looks like Restless Heart and The Eagles not withstanding, you've got a decent collection."

She rolled her eyes and grinned.

The ride was silent save for the music and the road until he finally asked, "Ryan, what happened?"

"When?"

"You were in school. You weren't in this life…"

She sighed and turned the music down. "Dean, you're like me…your life was ruined from a young age. And when that happens, all you can do is persevere, you know? I graduated. Got top honors, too. But I wasn't happy. And, after promising you I wouldn't, well, end things, I knew I had to do something. Then, I found a vengeful spirit outside of Charlotte and it felt so good to be able to do _something._

"So, I started looking for it. I met up with Bobby Singer and he kinda showed me some of the ropes. He looked at me like you're looking at me now; with pity, but I didn't care. I needed to do it. I needed to be taking out these monsters. I used the Tae Kwon Do I'd learned as a teenager for self defense, altered it, made my own kind of fighting style. I've excised a handful of demons, handled a haunting outside of Charleston, and took out a werewolf in Biloxi. Bobby helped me with my first witch coven. For the first time in my life, I'm…well, I wouldn't say happy, but content. I'm doing something so other monsters can't do to anyone else what was done to me."

"I get it," he said finally. "I totally get it. I just…I hate it for you. I feel like sometimes if we could have predicted they'd take you…"

"I fit the profile," she stated flatly. It was no bigger than that. It was just a shitty, life altering accident. "I fit the profile, but that was it. There were twenty other girls in my hometown that could have been taken, but it was me. You gotta let go of the guilt, Dean. I don't blame you or your dad. I never did."

"You blamed me for saving your life," he said it so softly, she almost wasn't certain he'd said it.

She huffed out a soft breath. She hated he felt that way, hated she had alluded to the fact in the first place. "Yeah, I did. But not anymore. Because of you, the world has another hunter. This isn't a bad thing."

He was quiet for a moment, before he asked, "So, you're hunting. You don't usually have passengers…No partner?"

She smirked. _Only Dean would want to know if I've got a bed mate. _"If this is your shitty way of asking do I have a boyfriend, the answer is 'no.'"

He held up both his hands. "Hey, just curious."

"I've hunted with a few people," she said finally. "Bobby, of course, a new kid, Mark Campbell, who was really nice, Caleb…"

"You've hunted with Caleb?"

Of course, Dean would know Caleb. "Yeah, we worked a case together a few months ago…" It had been closer to a year, now that she thought about it, before she'd headed back to South America. In fact, he was part of the reason she'd gone in the first place.

Dean grinned. "Haven't seen him in forever."

She shrugged and remained silent. She didn't feel any ill will toward Caleb. He was a decent guy, most guys _were _decent. She shrugged it off as they pulled up to the Impala. "Your dad gave it to you?" she asked as they both exited Demon.

He grinned. "Yeah, Baby's all mine."

She smiled at his obvious pride over his car. He led the way to the Impala and leaned against the driver's door. She felt that same pride over her car. She loved Demon, and had loved it ever since her Papa let her take it out for a drive when she was six and had to sit up against the steering wheel to reach the pedals. "I know the feeling. I was so excited to have Papa's Falcon, even though I put a ton of work into it."

"You do the work yourself?"

She shook her head. It was the one luxury she had provided herself when she graduated from high school. She ate Ramen Noodles for months that summer to pay it off, too. "No, not all of it. I had it fixed up for college. Last year it started sounding funny. Bobby, he, uh, he took me and Demon home, gave her a once-over, got me road ready, gave me a crash course on car maintenance, the whole nine."

He glanced at her car. "Demon?"

She smirked. "It seemed appropriate."

"You've got a twisted sense of humor, Ryan."

She laughed again. "Ain't the first time I've heard that one, Dean." she said. "So, how did you manage to talk Daddy Winchester into letting go of this beauty?" she wondered aloud as she ran a hand down Baby's front quarter panel. It was a gorgeous fucking car. She wondered briefly if he'd ever had sex in it and almost blinked at the turn her thoughts had taken. God, she needed him. Soon. Suddenly, it was evident how little the Magic Fingers and the vibrator really _did_ for her.

He cleared his throat, probably to get her attention off her suddenly raging libido. "Dad's got Truckzilla now, so Baby and I are just doing our thing."

"Truckzilla?"

He snorted. "Sam's name for it."

She paused and smiled softly, thinking about the little boy that drew the devil's trap under her mom's three hundred dollar rug. It had been ruined by her blood and her dad had thrown it away, burnt it, if memory served, but she remembered hearing Dean's awe at the fact Sammy had drawn it and hidden it away. "I haven't seen him since he was a kid. How is Sam doing?"

"Sam's good. He's in college."

That was fantastic. He seemed like a smart kid. She was glad John and Dean were supporting his decision for higher learning. "Wow! Awesome!"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm really happy for him. Haven't talked to him lately, though. Been doing my own thing for a few months now."

"That's good." She smiled. "Sort of like me."

He nodded.

"So," she began as she clapped her hands together. "We gonna hunt down these witches together?"

She watched the gears turning in his head without surprise. Not a lot of hunters wanted to hunt with someone they didn't know, but he did know her, didn't he?

"Why the hell not?" he said finally. "If you're good enough for Bobby to tutor, you're good enough for me."

Her lips quirked. When she met Bobby, he had asked her who taught her what she already knew. When she told him, he had been quite vocal. Apparently John had said or done something to piss the man off. "Bobby mentioned he knew and I quote, 'those damn Winchesters'."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, well, there's no love lost between my dad and Uncle Bobby."

_But Bobby loves you boys, _she wanted to say. She was silent a moment before she stated, "He's awesome, but, knowing your dad a little bit, I can understand how he could…rub someone the wrong way."

"He's brusque, I'll give you that," Dean replied.

Her hand went to his arm and she looked up at him from under her lashes. "I'm glad you aren't. Always stay like you are, Dean."

"What? I'm a macho, gruff, mean bastard, Ryan."

Her smile was soft as she leaned over until she was right in his face. God, he was gorgeous. He had some age on him, five years worth, though he was still baby-faced and beautiful. Those gorgeous green eyes held experience now, a slightly haunted look, but they were still full of life, full of mirth, too, she noticed, like he didn't take himself seriously too often. Just one more thing about him she liked, apparently. "That's not true." She breathed him in as she whispered, "I seem to remember you being quite gentle, Dean. You gave me a gift that night. I think it's time I returned the favor."

He swallowed hard and grinned. "Well, hell, let's gank some witchy bitches and I'll let you do that very thing."

She smirked and pulled away. "Well, we've got a few hours until daylight. Call it or go get breakfast?"

He grinned at her and they chorused, "Breakfast."

* * *

She followed him as he led her to his motel. It had a little diner attached to it. She really was just hungry for him, but she held it together. They were, after all, working a job. There would be plenty of time for fun later, hopefully. Luckily the diner was an all-night joint and they slid into a booth before the sun was even a glimmer in the eastern sky.

The waitress came and took their order. "I'll take the special, extra pig, and one of those cinnamon roll looking things. Looks great," Dean told her with a smile. "Oh, and a coffee and O.J. too."

Ryan grinned as the waitress turned to her. "Country Ham, egg, and cheese sandwich on white toast, extra mayo, side of hash browns, apple juice _with ice_, please, coffee, water, and I guess count me in for one of those cinnamon roll thingies."

The waitress didn't comment as she shuffled off. "Well, she's got…personality," Ryan commented as she sat back in the booth and drew one leg up to rest her head on her knee.

Dean snorted and yawned. "Yeah, I guess she's used to people coming in at all hours of the night."

Ryan shrugged. "It could be worse. At least we aren't covered in blood."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Guess we're getting good at not getting any on us."

Ryan laughed. "You say that, but then there's the mess at my hotel room I have yet to clean up."

"What happened? You mentioned a hex bag?"

She nodded as the waitress came back and sat their drinks down. She sipped her water until the lady left. "Yeah, I guess I got too close and they made me. Must have been that last vic I was talking to. Poor guy."

Dean's eyebrow rose. "Poor guy nothing. You screw with magic, that's the price you pay."

"So, they should die? They should be hurt?" she asked, incredulous.

"You don't fuck with things like this, especially if you're a civilian."

"They didn't know any better."

"Isn't that the problem?" Dean asked with a sigh. "They don't know any better, so they end up screwing with their lives."

They were both quiet for a moment. It was true, there was some shit civilians shouldn't mess with. Heck, she shouldn't be messing with it. Hoodoo was some wicked stuff. Spells and elixirs and potions really had no place to be messed with by anyone. She stifled a yawn as she put three creams and two sugars in her coffee, basically making it sweetened coffee flavored milk.

"So…the hex bag?" Dean prompted when she finished.

Ryan shrugged and shook her head as she held the warm mug in both hands. She closed her eyes and took an appreciative breath of the warm beverage. Coffee was definitely the nectar of the gods, no matter what anyone said. "Ahhh, I love the smell of coffee in the morning. I rarely drink it any later in the day. It's a morning beverage, unless I'm burning the midnight oil."

She opened her eyes slowly and she smiled as they found him staring at her. _What do you see when you look at me, Dean? _she wondered, but she knew she didn't have the balls to ask him something so personal. Instead, she covered it up. "Sorry…I think I might have dozed off for a moment."

"You need to go get some rest," he stated.

She shrugged. "Maybe. Let's see if this coffee and the huge breakfast makes any headway with my fatigue." She took a sip and sat the mug down. "Now, you'd asked about the hex bag."

He nodded and she began her tale, recounting the events that had led to her being at the right place and the right time to see him being dragged away. The thoughts that she could have died were second to the fact he almost lost his own life that night. She couldn't imagine a world without Dean Winchester in it. She wasn't sure she wanted to. "So now," she finished as the waitress reappeared with the food, "I'm starving."

She eyed her food with a barely held in whimper. If there was one thing she loved in the world besides hunting, it was food. She supposed it stemmed from being a teen doped up on so many meds she didn't care what she ate, but now, everything had a taste to it and she loved to try new combinations. If she didn't like it, she didn't eat it. Period. But if she loved it, it quickly became something she craved.

They ate in relative silence then, just making small talk as they ate. She devoured her food and glanced at his pancakes. Man, they looked delicious. She wasn't much of a pancake eater, she was more into waffles, but she couldn't resist asking if she could have a taste. He nodded with a smile and she moaned as she put the bite in her mouth. "My God, these are the best pancakes on the planet."

He shook his head. "Nah, I've had better."

Her eyebrow rose. "Where?"

So, he went into detail telling her about the little diner outside of Branson, Missouri he had stopped at after killing a pair of Vetala.

"Vetala?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, nasty creatures, stab them in the heart with a silver knife and you're good."

She smiled and her hand dipped down to the blade of the knife she used earlier. "Pure silver. Cost me a fortune from a chick that's in the biz. She doesn't hunt, but she knows a metric fuckton about the Supernatural."

"Glad to know you're being safe," he commented. "I still hate you're in this life, Ryan. You had a shot at normal."

She let out a snort. "Please. My shot at normal ended when I was eleven. I'm not bitter about it, Dean. If I had stayed in normal, I would be dead by now."

"You could have called me," he offered softly.

She blew out a breath. The number of times she had held her fingers over his number was easily in the thousands but she knew she needed to be independent. She couldn't rely on him. He had his own life. "Dean, I…I knew you were busy with your own stuff. You didn't need me tagging along and you didn't need to feel like you were….I dunno, responsible for me or something. I needed to go out and find my own way." She smiled. "Besides, when you were there last, it seemed as though you and your dad were a team."

He shrugged noncommittally. "Well, we aren't a team now. I meet up with him when he calls me. We just finished a job, as a matter of fact. But I'm out on my own more and more now."

"It's freeing, isn't it?" she questioned softly.

"You have no idea," he told her.

The silence continued for a beat and Ryan looked out the window. "Looks like it's morning."

"Huh. Go figure."

She smiled. "Well, I'm full and awake."

"Me too. Wanna ditch your car here and we can take mine, go together?"

She nodded with the smile still in place. She wanted nothing more than to do that very thing. "Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

The other two witches weren't quite as into the witch life as the two Ryan and Dean disposed of and were quite happy to give up the life in order to live. With a powerful spellbook and a few hex bags to go, Dean and Ryan made their way back to the motel. "Well, that was anticlimactic," she mused from her spot in his passenger seat. They had taken Demon to Dean's motel and parked him in front of Dean's room before they went hunting up the brother and sister duo. _Thank God. Now I get him all to myself. _

Dean let out a snort as he stood once they reached the motel. "Victory is victory. And those two are heading to jail for a while anyway for hurting those tourists. They're lucky we didn't gank 'em on principle."

She walked around the car and shrugged. "Eh, wasn't worth it. Without the coven leader, they were just playing at being witches." She turned and grabbed his jacket, pulling him to her. She was still just a bit nervous about being with him, but she masked it with bravado as she muttered, "And now, I wanna play doctor."

He growled and grabbed her ass, hauling her to him as his mouth sank to hers. He attacked it and she willingly let him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She pulled away and he grinned. "So help me, if we don't get in that room, I'm going to have you on Baby's hood.

"Not that I wouldn't like that, Dean, but I have something else in mind." She turned and having grabbed his key from his pocket, deftly unlocked the door as his lips roamed her neck, driving her crazy with want despite the uncertainty. "Honeysuckle. You always smell like honeysuckle to me, Ryan." His hand moved quickly and undid her bun, sending her hair cascading down her back.

She gasped and dropped the key as they stumbled into the room. _Damn, he can even undo my hair that fast? Shit…that's…that's hot. _She wasn't an idiot, Dean was gorgeous. She felt sure he'd had his fair share of women since their short night together, but his experience still amazed her. After all, her number of men was still in the single digits. Oh, who was she kidding? Her number of men was the man still standing behind her, driving her crazy with his lips on her neck. "You-you're gonna turn the tide, Winchester. I was, ungh, supposed to repay you."

He nipped at her neck lightly and purred in her ear, "Oh, don't worry. I'm gonna get lots of repayment, sweetheart."

"F-f-fuck," she stuttered as he bent down to sweep her off her feet. He carried her to the bed and dropped her lightly before his body covered hers. "Have you gotten a lot of practice since we were together last?" he asked as his lips moved to her collarbone and began undoing the buttons on her shirt.

_Try none, _she thought, but to him, she just said, "N-no, but Casa Erotica has helped me with my schooling."

He grinned. "Always a favorite." He stood and peeled off his jacket, toed out of his boots, and slid off his flannel shirt, leaving him in jeans and a tee. She swallowed the whine of desperation as he smiled and delved back to her. "You are beautiful, Ryan," he whispered as he bit her nipple through her shirt.

She didn't want flowers and poetry. She needed this, needed _him_. Five years was a long time. She was curious to see if it was as good as the last time. "Don't, ah, don't need to give me flowery talk, Dean. I'm a sure thing."

He pulled away and narrowed his eyes. "No, I don't do flowery talk. This ain't a chick flick, Ryan. If I say something during sex, I mean it, kay?"

She bit her lip and smiled softly. Pissed off Dean was delicious and a complete turn on. Gone was the fear. This man would never hurt her. Instead, all she felt was the buzz of desire thrumming through her. She felt the thrill traveling south as she whispered, "Okay."

"Now," he murmured as his hand traveled up her sides, bringing her tank with it, "I want to see all of you." He pulled her to a sitting position and divested of her shirts and bra, leaving her in only her jeans and boots. "Whoa…" he muttered.

She smiled. She had gotten tattooed since he had seen her last. The two thick ropes of scars on her arms were still on display, but on her left arm, she'd had tattooed in a gorgeous, flowing font; "Carry On My Wayward Son" and on her right arm, above and below the scar it read "There'll Be Peace When You Are Done." It was one of her favorite songs and it reminded her of him every time she heard it.

He blinked. "Kansas?"

She smiled. "I told you I love rock music. I, uh, I got them because of you, Dean. You told me to not give up, and I didn't. I got these to remember that."

His smile was soft as he laved both the tattoos and scars with attention. "Gorgeous."

She started to cover her naked breasts and he shook his head. "No. I said I want to see you. All of you. You're not going shy on me now, are you? I seem to remember you getting yourself off in front of me to the tune of 'Black Velvet'. Sexiest fucking thing I've ever watched to be honest."

He dipped to kiss her lips once more. "And I get a damned hard-on every time I hear that fucking song, all because of you. I hope you're happy with yourself."

She felt the blush run hot across her face, but then a smirk graced her lips. Damn. That was an image. Dean, getting hard, all because of her. "That's hot," she murmured, unable to help herself.

She was still warm from his scrutiny as he stood once more and took her in. She knew what he was seeing. Her scars were out on display on her stomach, looking more defined now with her abdominal muscles. She had a few new ones, too, silvery pink skin that showed where blades or claws had attacked her. He was all smiles as he slowly untied and removed each of her boots, gently peeled away each sock, then moved to her waist, torturing her by slowly unbuttoning each button on her jeans and she shivered in anticipation every time his fingertips caressed her flesh.

"I never understood why the fly on women's jeans were all buttons, but I like it."

She panted out a breath. She was going to spontaneously combust if the torture didn't either end, or start moving faster. "Some men's jeans have button flies…"

"Metrosexual crap that it is. Just give me a pair of plain jeans, I'm fine."

She smirked. She wouldn't mind seeing him all metrosexual. It would be different, but sexy as hell, in her opinion. "You'd look pretty damn good, Winchester, like a male model."

He chortled and slid the jeans down her legs, leaving her in nothing but a pair of purple satin panties. "Purple's a good color on you. It looks perfect with your skin."

She snorted. "Careful, Dean, you're entering chick flick territory."

He shot her a look and dipped to her once more, taking a nipple in his mouth and her breath caught at the sensation. "Oh, didn't you get the memo?" he growled. "This isn't a chick flick. This is a porno." His hand moved her panties to the side and he gently thrust two fingers into her wet heat.

She arched off the bed and gasped as he began moving them, finding her sweet spot. It was better than she remembered, and all he was doing was touching her. What would the main event feel like?

"I forgot how receptive you are, Ryan," he murmured as his lips moved all over her chest.

"J-just for you," she panted as he continued taking her up, up, up, until she came apart in his arms.

As she drifted down from her high, he stood one last time and started taking off his pants. When he reached back in them for the condom, she gently reminded him, "You don't need that with me, Dean."

"Ry…"

She shook her head and held out her hands for him to come closer. She refused to dwell on that fact. It was over, done with. It couldn't be undone. "Be with me," she purred. "I need to feel you, Dean."

The boxer-briefs fell to the floor and he was back to her in an instant. "You sure?" he questioned gently as he found his way to her.

She smiled and nodded as she felt him ready and waiting. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Absolutely."

With one gentle thrust, they were joined and she huffed out a breath as her nails left score marks in his back. His lips once more attacked hers, his tongue gently probing, thrusting, in time with his movements and she matched him stroke for stroke as they began moving. He took her up and over once more, twice more, playing her like a violin before he allowed himself release, and as he came down, she kissed him tenderly. "Thank you," she whispered.

He moved off of her, but pulled her into his chest and nuzzled her neck. "Thank you," he whispered back.

They fell asleep like that, and she dropped into dream land easily, so much easier than when she was by herself.

_In her dream, she was standing in a white room adorned with gold features. It was bordering on gaudy, in her opinion. There was a man there. He was nice looking, about the same height as her, smirking at her slightly, chewing on a Twizzler. "You want one?" he offered. _

_She chuckled flatly and wrinkled her nose. "I don't like Twizzlers. Got any Tootsie Pops on you?"_

_He reached into his pocket and held out a cherry one. "Thanks!" she gushed. "My favorite!"_

"_I know, Ryan. I know a lot about you."_

_She eyed him warily as she unwrapped the candy, stuffing the wrapper in her pants pocket. "I assume you didn't mean for that to sound quite as creepy as it came out, did you?"_

_He laughed. "No, I really didn't. Sorry."_

_She smiled at him and took a lick of the treat, the cherry flavor exploding in her mouth. "You got a name? You seem to already know mine."_

_He nodded. "I do."_

"_But you won't share it?"_

"_Not just yet." He finished the candy and walked over to a bench. "Come, sit a minute?"_

_She shrugged and sat next to him, just enjoying her treat a moment before she commented, "I know you, don't I?"_

_He gave her a small smile. "Maybe you do. I know you."_

"_Did we go to college together?"_

"_We may have met there, or maybe before."_

"_You're being evasive."_

"_You're being stubborn," he retorted._

"_Takes one to know one," she shot back._

_He laughed. "Yeah, I really do like you, Ryan." He was quiet a moment. "What's one thing you want more than anything in the world?"_

_"Just one?"_

"_Yeah. Why the hell not. Humor me."_

"_World peace?"_

_He rolled his eyes. "Try for some originality, sweet-cheeks. How about something just for you, no one else, just for yourself."_

_She thought a moment and sighed. There was one thing she had always wanted and knew she now, would never have. "A choice."_

"_A choice?"_

_She nodded. "I wanted the choice to be able to have kids. That was taken away from me."_

"_Do you like kids?"_

"_I don't know. I think so. I babysat in college. I enjoyed being around little ones."_

"_What if I told you I could help you with that?"_

"_What?" she asked incredulous. "How?" _

_He shrugged. "Just think about it…" _

She woke with a start and looked over at Dean lying next to her. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the clock. They had been asleep a few hours. _Odd dream, _she thought as she stood and walked naked to the bar and grabbed a glass, getting a cool drink of water. She slipped back in the bed and started kissing the gorgeous sleeping figure of Dean Winchester. He woke, half startled until he seemed to realize where he was and what she was doing. He pulled her on top of him and smiled at her as she sat up, enveloping him.

His hands traveled to her hips, helping her hit a rhythm that would please them both. She was so close, just _right there _when his thumb found her clit and he began taking her up and over before they floated down the other side together.

She fell to his chest and kissed his sweaty skin. "You're amazing," she breathed.

He chuckled and tipped her head so he could kiss her lips. "I'm fairly certain that you've got that backwards, Ry."

She smiled at him and laid her head on her arm atop his chest. "No one calls me Ry." _Of course, you don't have any friends, either, _she thought to herself.

He shrugged and grinned. "Hey, I'm all about nicknames. You should ask Sam what his is."

She giggled. "I know. I heard you once, when you were at my house. Any particular reason you call him 'bitch', Dean?"

She watched him as he thought. "Well, I figured, if he was going to get teased at school, I'd better toughen him up. Calling him a bitch was just the start of it."

"Did you get teased a lot?" she asked softly, though she knew the answer. She remembered seeing him in clothes that didn't fit right, were dirty, with holes in them. Even not being around a lot of boys, she knew that wasn't normal.

"Yeah, we got our fair share for a while there until I got big enough to do the laundry and learned how to patch holes in shirts and stuff."

She respected the hell out of John Winchester. Had he not trained the boys, she would be dead, or worse, right this very moment. But if he were standing in front of her right there, she would slap his face for how he raised his sons. They didn't deserve to be trained as warriors. They should have been children first, cautious second, and finally, when they were old enough to make their own decisions, decide if they wanted to become hunters or not. This life wasn't for everyone. She had found that out already. It was tough, it was painful, and the odds of dying young and bloody were exponentially higher than any other field of work, whether you got paid or not. "You two went through a lot growing up, didn't you?" she asked finally.

He was silent for a few moments before he finally said, "It could have been worse."

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She kissed him tenderly.

"You hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head, but even as she did, she thought of that Tootsie Pop in her dream. Sugar would be good right about now, and she wouldn't say no to some alcohol, either. "Not really, but I need some sugar and some booze. What about you?"

He grinned. "Sounds good."

He stood and slipped on some pants. "I've got the booze covered." He inclined his head where she saw a bottle of whiskey sitting on the table by some of his research. "Sugar…"

"I saw a vending machine," she told him. "Think they've got any Skittles in there?"

He slid on a shirt and stepped into his boots. "I'll go check."

She, too, stood, and slithered into one of his plaid shirts, only buttoning about half the buttons, not intending to drive him crazy with want again already, but realizing she did that very thing as she caught him looking. She smirked. "Sugar. Booze. Then sex again."

He pulled her to him and when his mouth was just a breath from hers, he breathed, "Promise?"

_I'd promise you the moon if you asked me, _she thought. She blinked slowly and smiled. "Absolutely."

He kissed her quickly and ducked out the door. She watched him leave and smiled. _If only it could always be like this. I can't imagine being this happy all the time. I would probably explode. _Of course, she knew this was temporary. He would be eager to move on tomorrow, the next day at the very latest. He wasn't a one-woman kind of guy, was he?

The thought made her morose, so she poured two glasses of whiskey, downed one, then poured herself another before she sat at the table and waited. He walked back in and handed her the bag of Skittles. She couldn't help the grin as she ripped it open and dumped it out onto the table. She began separating the colors like she usually did. She heard him sit and sip the whiskey. "What are you doing?"

She grinned bashfully. It was weird, she knew, but it was something she always did. "I, uh, I don't like all the flavors mixed so I eat them one flavor at a time. Well, lemon and grape can be eaten together, but the rest…" she let the comment hang in the air as she finished her task. Once she got them all separated, she took her time eating them, all of them but the red.

"Don't like the red ones?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "No, they're my favorite. I save the best for last."

She heard him chuckle under his breath. "So, where are you going from here?" she asked, partially because she was curious, and partially because she wanted to fill the almost uncomfortable silence that had descended.

"I don't know. Wherever I hear of something else hooey I guess. Dad sends me coordinates if we aren't together. Usually, though, I find my own jobs."

She nodded noncommittally as she shot the second glass of whiskey down.

"What about you?" he questioned.

She hadn't given it much thought. She had planned on heading up to South Dakota, seeing what Bobby was up to, and she had also considered heading back to Brazil and checking in on Riana. "I don't know. Guess we'll just have to see what we see." She didn't want to think about it. She wanted to live in the moment. She didn't want to think of him leaving her. So, she didn't.

She stood and smiled. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to go back to bed." She slowly began undoing one button and then the other until the expanse of skin between her breasts was exposed, then, down to her belly button, and then, she was standing there with the shirt open showing the fact she hadn't bothered with slipping back into her panties.

His jaw dropped slightly before he grinned. "You ready already?"

Her smile grew. "Unless you're too tired."

He was standing in a flash. "I'm never too tired for you."

* * *

_She was back in the white room. This time, there was a dark haired little girl playing with a toy dog in the corner. "She's cute, isn't she?" the man said._

_She whirled around to face him. "Who are you and what do you want?"_

"_I told you, I could give you what you want."_

"_Christo," she muttered._

_He grinned. "Wrong direction, babe. Angel, not demon."_

_She gasped. "You're an angel? A real life, honest-to-God angel?"_

_He nodded. "Yup. And I've got the deal of the century for you."_

_She eyed him warily. "I didn't think Angels made deals. Don't you come with glad tidings and shit like that?"_

_He laughed. "Yeah, usually. And that's what I'm here for. Glad tidings for you, Ryan. I'm about to make your wish come true."_

"_Why?"_

_He shrugged. "Let's say I've seen the future. It ain't all it's cracked up to be. I want to level the playing field a little bit."_

_She shot him a look. "You do realize I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"_

"_I know. All I need from you is a yes or a no."_

"_About what?"_

"_What if I told you I could restore you to whole? I could give you a baby, or two, or three."_

"_What's the catch?" _

_He smiled. "Yeah, there's always a fine print in there somewhere, isn't it? Okay, here's the catch; the kid, or kids, should you choose to have more, have to be Winchesters."_

"_Dean's kids."_

"_Yes."_

"_Why?" _

"_We need the Campbell/Winchester bloodline to continue."_

_She wanted to question who the 'we' was, but instead, asked, "What's so special about them?"_

_The angel sighed. "Look, it's a yes or no question, Ryan."_

"_I'll-I'll need to think about it."_

_He blew out a breath. "Fine." He snapped his fingers…_

And she woke up.

Her brow furrowed as she glanced down at her stomach. There was no way, was it? She stood and went to the bathroom, relieved herself, got another drink of water, and made her way back to bed.

"You okay?" Dean asked sleepily.

"Yeah. Weird dreams."

He chuckled. "We shoulda got some burgers, put you in a food coma. You wouldn't have dreamed about a thing."

She giggled and he held out his hands for her. She dropped willingly into his arms and they began making out. "I wanna try something," he whispered in the near dark of the room.

"You know, I'm not very experienced, Dean. I'm not sure I can handle butt sex."

His mouth fell open. "God help me, Ryan, I never know what the fuck is going to come out of your mouth."

She giggled again.

He shook his head at her and rolled his eyes as he moved down, down, down, her body. "No, I was just thinking, I promised you I'd show you what my tongue could do."

_Fuck me, _she thought with a whimper.

He grinned. "I bet you've never had anyone do this…"

His tongue thrust into her and she groaned as she grasped his short hair. "Oh, fuck," she muttered as he began teasing her.

It seemed as though it took him no time at all to find out where to touch, where to suck, and she was screaming as her thighs clenched around his head.

He slithered back up her body and kissed her. She marveled at the taste of herself on his lips.

"Did you like that?" he murmured as he gently attacked her neck once more.

"Yes, God," she moaned as she felt him hard and ready for her once more.

"Good," he stated as he joined them yet again.

When they finished, she once more fell soundly asleep and dropped right back into the white room.

"_Well?" the angel asked eagerly. "What's your answer?"_

"_I'm confused. Why me?"_

_He sighed. "Ryan, you've been through the closest thing to hell a human can, short of actually traveling to Hell. You went through some awful stuff as a kid and you lived through two suicide attempts. I'd say that makes you pretty damn strong."_

"_Yeah, okay, I get that. But why do you want me? I'm as messed up as they come. What possible good could this kid, or kids, be with me as their mother?"_

"_First off, they'd be great, because you're great. And Dean, for all his asshole tendencies, is a decent guy."_

_Her eyebrow rose. "Know him well, do you?"_

_The angel chuckled. "Believe me, I do. But here's more of that fine print. The kids have to be raised to know all about the evils of life. I need them to be hunters, but I need them to be better than Sam and Dean."_

"_Granted, I don't know Sam, but Dean's a great guy, even if, as you say, he has 'asshole tendencies'!" she defended._

_He held out his hands. "He is now. Give him a few years. Trust me. I've seen it. Why else have I come back here to change things?"_

"_You-You're from the future?"_

_He pulled a giant Pixie Stick out of his jacket pocket and twirled it like a baton between his fingers and sighed. "Eh, well, technically. Time runs different for angels, at least ones with my kind of juice. But, for you, yes, I'm from the future."_

"_So, what? Dean's a bad guy?"_

"_Not bad, no, just…misguided. I knew after I tried to talk him and Sam into playing their parts, they wouldn't do it. That left me with no choice. I'll have to make a stand against my brother and I need an insurance policy, just in case things don't turn out so good for me."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

_He shook his head. "Never mind that. This is about you. So, here's the deal. One, these kids have to know about the big bads, how to defeat them, how to kill them and save the good people of earth, that sort of thing. Two, you give yourself to Dean Winchester, and only Dean Winchester for the rest of your life. And three…you must never tell Dean about this agreement."_

_The thought of being with just Dean didn't bother her. She had tried. She had failed. She had resigned herself to the fact sex, unless it was with Dean, was off the list for her. That was okay. But the thought of Dean never knowing his kids…that was a deal breaker. "Never? But…he'll never know his kids."_

"_Trust me, I've seen how him plus fatherhood works. It doesn't. I've traveled to the future, too."_

_She wanted to question that, but chose not to. "But…I can't do that to him."_

"_It's an all or nothing kind of deal, sweetheart. You either abide by my rules, or it's a no-go."_

"_But, I don't have the right equipment anymore, I can't…"_

_The angel smiled. "You already do. And right now, you've got an egg sprouting. Luckily Dean's so…fertile. Dude doesn't know how to do anything halfway, does he?"_

_She looked down at her stomach. "You mean, it's already…"_

_The angel nodded. "Your eggo is preggo, princess."_

"_But…" she began, flabbergasted. There was no way, was there? _

_He went on; "If you say no, I'll return you to how you were before. If you say yes, the child will continue to grow inside of you with a little gift of her own."_

"_Her? She's definitely a girl already? How can you tell?"_

"_I'm an angel of the lord, sweetcheeks. I know these things."_

"_Give me your name," she demanded gently._

"_Gabriel."_

_She gasped. "THE Gabriel? The Archangel, Gabriel?"_

"_Well, give the girl a stuffed monkey, she knows her stuff."_

_She shot him a look. "Mom made me go to church, you ass."_

_He chuckled. "Oh, yeah, I do like you, Ryan. You're the perfect mother for these kids."_

"_How many?"_

_He just smiled. _

_She sighed. "Yes or no?"_

_He nodded. "The choice is yours. Say yes, she says with you. Say no, you'll forget this ever happened."_

_But she could feel it already, she could feel motherhood sprouting its wings within her and the desire to protect the innocent life she now carried. She would go to the ends of the earth for this child, trudge through Hell and sell her soul to help it grow into what it was supposed to be. _

_She took a deep breath. "I will have to see Dean again to have other children with him, won't I? How will I hide her from him?"_

_Gabriel pulled a chocolate bar from his coat pocket having finished off the Pixie Stick while they talked. "You'll think of something. You're a hunter, Ryan. A trained liar. You'll come up with some excuse."_

"_This feels wrong."_

"_Hey, then don't do it."_

"_You-you wouldn't find someone else to do it, would you?"_

_He grinned. "Do I detect a bit of the green eyed monster? You do know that he won't be with you. He won't fall in love with you." His voice grew softer and for a moment, he almost seemed sad at offering her the deal. "You'll just be…sex buddies."_

_She stood a bit straighter. "I never thought I stood a shot with him at all. I'm not emotionally stable enough for a damn relationship, Gabriel, with him, or otherwise. To be with him as friends with benefits works fine for me. I just don't like lying to him."_

"_That's your choice."_

"_Damn you, Gabriel!" she cried, more confused than ever._

"_I hate it," and it sounded like he truly did. "But there are some bad things coming. We need all hands on deck, regardless. You'll be training hunters the way they should be trained, better than John Winchester and better than Dean could ever hope."_

"_Without a father," she put in._

_He nodded. "True. But they'll have you in their corner." _

_She blew out a breath. "Okay."_

"_Okay as in…yes?"_

_She nodded. "Yes. I'll do it. I swear it."_

_He started to snap his fingers when she called out, "Wait!"_

_He sighed. "What now?"_

"_Will…will there ever be a time I can tell him?"_

"_When he's dead."_

_She blinked. "Well, gee, you're so fucking kind, Gabriel."_

_He chuckled. "Look, you'll know when you can tell him, how about that?"_

_She thought of that for a moment. "And how do I know you're telling the truth? What's preventing me from just telling him about this crazy ass dream when I wake up?"_

_He smirked. "I'll leave you a little gift."_

"_What? A gift…?"_

She could still hear the finger-snap as she woke. She gasped as searing pain etched itself on her back and she threw off the covers to dash to the bathroom. She flipped on the light and saw the anti-possession sigil tattooed on her skin, surrounded by a pair of angel wings and some indistinguishable marks beneath it. "Gee, thanks, Gabe," she muttered under her breath.

She looked down at her flat stomach and brushed it gently. "If he's lying, I'm going to find his feathery ass and kill him."

She walked back out and looked at the bed where Dean was sleeping peacefully on his stomach, head turned toward her pillow. She sucked in a breath and blew it out to calm herself. She had to get out of the room before he woke up. She dressed quickly, slipping her hand in her jeans pocket and she pulled out the cherry Tootsie-Pop wrapper. As if the tattoo wasn't enough of a realization the dream happened, this sealed it for her.

She finished gathering her stuff. She needed to dash to her room and gather her gear over there, too. It was in another hotel halfway across town. That was good. It would give her a few minutes to get her thoughts processed. Besides, she still needed to clean up the aftermath from the witches' hex bag.

She looked at him once more, saw the peacefulness on his face and decided to pen him a note; _Winchester, sorry I had to bail. _She paused and looked at the paper under her hand. She couldn't tell him about the kid…that was a no-no. But she could leave him a clue. She thought a moment, then remembered the song by Heart. She went back to writing; _You know all I want to do is make love to you, but I had stuff to take care of. Thank you for…for being you. I'm sure I'll see you around. Ryan_

She folded the note, slipped it on her pillow, and took one last look at him before she snuck out the door. She had a lot of changes coming her way…best to go ahead and face them head-on.

* * *

***crickets* Anyone still reading? Okay, so, holy plot twist, Batman! Hopefully you're still on board. I'm having the time of my life writing this, just so you know. It only gets more interesting from here. Leave me a review on your way out, yeah? I'd appreciate it! **


	11. Crystal Ball

**Disclaimer: Ya'll already know this tune. I don't own it. Wish I did. Boo-hoo. Cry me a river.**

**AN: Hola, mischief-migos! So, I got 21 reviews and 18 followers! YAY! So, I'm guessing you're enjoing the roller coaster? That is, after all, my favorite ride. Hehehe. So, here's the next chapter. This takes us from 6 weeks after the last chapter until between seasons 5-6 of Supernatural. Enjoy! PM me if you have any questions! Love ya!**

NOTE: I'm not going to go into a ton of detail, just giving you snippets of Ryan's life. If I told the whole tale, I wouldn't finish it in time for Supernatural's four hundredth episode! Also, I'm basing dates on the fact this is 2005. Now, the show takes two time jumps, once when Sam goes to Hell, and once, when Dean goes to Purgatory. The time will reflect that, just like in show, but it doesn't actually add up with real dates, so…suspend belief. It's made this hella hard to write, to be honest. LOL

* * *

**April Seventh, (Six Weeks Later…)**

Ryan's heart was beating out of her chest. This was it…this would tell the tale to see if Gabriel was a lying sack of shit or not. But she was beginning to believe him. She was dressed in a hospital gown with a sheet wrapped around her waist and she felt like she was going to vomit. That, along with the dizziness, was the first thing that clued her in to the fact Gabriel might not have been completely full of shit. If he was, however, and she wasn't pregnant, she was going to call Dean, apologize for bailing on him, and see if she could hook up with him hunting. That was, after she figured out how the hell to fry Gabriel's wings up, extra-crispy for lying to her.

She'd been staying on the down-low for the past six weeks, holed up in a little dumpy motel room outside of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Why she picked there was easy enough; she liked being near the ocean and the price was cheap. It was still off-season until after Easter, which was about a week or so away. She had called and made her appointment two days before and luckily, the OB/GYN had a cancellation when she decided it was time to go to the doctor and see what he had to say.

Just then, the door opened and Ryan stopped swinging her legs, which were dangling off the side of the bed.

"Well, Miss Fawcett, I have some good news. It appears as though you're pregnant."

"Holy fucking shit," she muttered under her breath. _Gabriel…wow. _Not that she doubted an angel of the Lord and all, but, still…

The older doctor blinked and looked at her in surprise. "I take it this is not good news?"

She shook her head quickly. "NO! No, I mean, it's great, it's just…I was always told I couldn't have kids…" _Of course, having your uterus removed at the age of eleven kinda makes that a no-brainer…_

"Well, it appears you are most definitely pregnant. Of course, I would like to do a panel of blood work on you since you weren't trying, so I assume you weren't taking any prenatal vitamins. It states here you don't smoke and only drink socially…"

She held in a snort at that. If by "socially" he meant by herself in her motel room, then, yes, she only drank socially. However, since Gabe's big announcement, she hadn't touched a sip of booze and had, in fact, picked up a bottle of vitamins, just to be on the safe side. _Pregnant…wow…_

"I see, however, you've had bouts with depression in your past…"

She nodded. "I did, yes."

"But you aren't on medications now? Is that wise? I realize now you are pregnant, but there are medicines we can keep you on to balance your moods…"

"Doctor, the reason I was on those meds was because I almost died after being gang raped. It took me a long time to overcome the sorrow and self-degradation associated with that. Now, I'm past that. I've acclimated. I realize this might screw with me, the hormones and stuff, but I've done my research, believe me." _That _was a gross understatement. She hadn't done anything _but _research since Gabe's little visit. She sucked in a breath. "I believe I will be more than fine for this baby."

"As long as you stay on top of it and are self-aware, I can't force you to take any medications, Miss Fawcett." He smiled. "Now, would you like to see a picture of your baby?"

Ryan blinked back tears. "You can do that? Already?"

"Well, it won't look like a baby, but if we're lucky, you will be able to see a little bit…"

She giggled as the tears now streamed down her face. "Yes. Please. I want to see her."

The doctor chuckled. "It might be a boy, you know."

She shook her head. "No. She's a girl, I can tell. And she already has a name; Hope." _She's my hope, my hope that I did the right thing, the hope for my life to mean something, the hope for me to be what I need to be. _

* * *

**November Ninth **

The cries lit the momentary silence of the room as the doctor said, "You've got a little girl, Ms. Fawcett!"

Ryan's head fell back onto the pillow and she began sobbing, all of the pain of the past two days forgotten. The nurses cleaned the baby quickly and handed the little bundle to her. Ryan gasped as she took in the beauty of her daughter. "She…she looks just like her daddy," she managed, and the baby did. She had his elfin ears, his nose, the shape of his eyes, his full lips…she was the image of Dean. That made her sobs even harder as she cradled the baby close. "Oh, sweetheart, I promise, I'll do right by you."

"Does she have a name?" the matronly nurse asked.

Ryan smiled through the tears. "Hope. Hope Deanna."

At six pounds, eleven ounces, Hope was perfect, and quite big and healthy to have been born three weeks early, but Ryan knew when her daughter was conceived, there was no doubt. The doctors didn't question, they just went with it.

Later that day, Ryan was guided in the art of breastfeeding and she smiled at her daughter's already insatiable appetite. "You're definitely Dean's," she mused quietly as she rubbed the baby's soft blond hair. "No need to worry about you not eating, that's for sure." She gently picked up the baby and moved her to the other breast and smiled again as the baby latched right on. The lactation consultant had been quite surprised by how alert and eager the newborn had been to eat. "You don't know her father," Ryan had told the nurse. Bobby had regaled her with stories about how Dean had almost eaten him out of house and home when he would stay with him. When the baby finished, Ryan put her up on her shoulder and began patting her, burping her. "You're an angel, Hope, my angel. I'll do everything in my power to protect you."

* * *

**December Sixteenth,**

Ryan smiled at their neighbor as she walked up the sidewalk to their modest duplex. She had wanted to rent a house for her and the baby, but she had settled on the small duplex here in Elkhart, Indiana. She wasn't sure why she picked Indiana, but it seemed as good a place as any. She liked being near the simplicity of the Amish in Shipshewana and the town of Elkhart was small enough to feel safe, but big enough she wasn't scrutinized by everyone. Plus, she was only a small drive from Lake Michigan and she had always loved the water.

"Okay, Hopey, let's get you inside, then we'll go nurse you then we'll both have a nap, sound good?" Ryan cooed to the baby in the carrier as she sat it down on the landing. They had just come from Hope's six week well baby check and the kid had been less than thrilled to receive a shot in the leg. Well, Ryan hadn't handled it well, either. Her hormones were kicking her ass, but she was managing.

She pushed the mail to the side with her foot as she opened the door. She would need to check the paint on her devil's trap again. She knew shoving the mail out of the way could damage it, and all it needed was a bit of damage and it was rendered useless.

She nursed the baby, almost falling asleep herself, and then put her daughter down for a nap before she walked back to the front door to gather up the mail. There were a few bills, a couple of catalogs, her issue of Southern Living, which she loved for the recipes, and a package.

She eyed the brown envelope curiously. No one had her mailing address, and by the looks of this, it hadn't been mailed. In fact, there was nothing on it except her first name in a scrawling script.

She took it to the kitchen table and ran her EMF detector over it, just to be on the safe side. It didn't pop positive, so she warily sliced the end open with her silver knife. When nothing happened, she blew out the breath she had been holding and pulled out a large stack of papers. It was a manuscript of some kind. A note fluttered out and fell to the floor. She picked it up and gasped. It was from Gabriel.

_Hey, Ryan. This is the real deal, straight from a prophet. You wanted to know more about why you were chosen? Well, this will start to clue you in. These are the Winchester Gospels and yes, they are legit. These two chuckleheads are important, and so, that means __you__ are important. These are to be read, absorbed for their information, and then burned. __NO__ONE__ needs to know about them, capiche? Take care of the kid. She's cute. Gabe_

Ryan sank down into the kitchen chair, all thoughts of a nap forgotten as she delved into reading about how Dean had shown up at Sam and Jessica's apartment because John was missing, how they'd found The Woman in White, who was actually a vengeful spirit, and how, upon arriving back at school, Jessica had been killed in the same way their mother had been. It took her every spare moment that day and she stated up late into the night until she finished it, and at the end, she sobbed for Sam. He hadn't asked for any of this, had, in fact, begged to be let out of the life, only to be sucked in by such a violent act.

She took a stuttering breath as she sat the manuscript down. "Oh, Gabriel…what have you gotten me into?" It was the first time she realized she may have gotten in over her head.

* * *

**November Eighth (the following year)**

Ryan sighed into the phone as she looked over at her daughter, who was trying to pull up to the couch. "Bobby, I'm sorry…I can't go on the hunt."

"It's a rugaru, Ryan. I'm neck deep in my own thing and need someone to go take care of it."

She smiled as Hope managed to pull up to a stand and walk along the edge of the couch. "I'm sorry, Bobby. If there were any other way…"

"Where are you, anyway? Haven't heard from you in over a year, girl."

"Yeah, I've been busy. Monsters are a busy line of work."

"Didn't you move to Brazil?"

_Shit. _She had forgotten she told him she was planning on the move, had, in fact, forgotten about the move in amidst the joys and trials of motherhood. "No, I couldn't quite fathom leaving The States for good."

"Well, good. We need you here."

_Like I've done any good lately, _she thought. But then she heard the baby begin to babble, "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma," and Ryan couldn't contain the giggle. She distractedly listened with one ear as she snapped a few pictures of Hope with her camera. Finally, Bobby got her attention.

"I, uh, take it you're busy, huh? Why didn't you just say you were with a fella and be done with me?"

Ryan blinked, focusing on his voice over the phone. "What?"

"Go on. I remember what it's like to be young. I'll see if I can find someone else to do it. Take care, Ryan."

"Yeah, Bobby, you too." She snapped her phone shut and walked over to sit on the floor near the couch. "Who needs a stinky boy when I've got my angel-face, right, Hope?"

The little girl just smiled at her. "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma."

"That's right. I'm your mama. Come on, Hopey, I know you want to walk. It's your birthday tomorrow. Don't you want to say you can walk by your first birthday?"

The little girl just looked at her with knit eyebrows. She had some of the cutest facial expressions Ryan had ever seen. "Come on, Hope. Come to Mama."

The little girl let go of the couch and stood there. Ryan smiled. "Come on. You can do it, sweetheart."

Hope took first one step, then another, then another. "Yes, yes, yes!" Ryan cried as Hope fell into her arms. "Great job, baby!" she cooed as she tickled the little angel and Hope giggled as her mommy blew raspberries on her tummy.

* * *

**January Eleventh **

Ryan was fixing Hope a cup of juice when she heard the news reporter on the TV say, "We have just received word that a bank in Milwaukee, Wisconsin is being held hostage. We go now, live, to our affiliate in the streets. Kim?"

Ryan's interest was piqued as she sat on the floor next to Hope and her pile of Weebles toys.

"Thanks, Jan, yes, FBI officials are on scene now and it appears as though they have suspects in the case. Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam, are wanted in connection to a string of murders in Maryland…"

"Oh, Dean, what have you done?" Ryan asked aloud as they showed both Dean and Sam's mug shots.

"Dada!" Hope called as she toddled over to the TV cabinet.

Ryan blew out a breath. She had managed to snag pictures of Dean, and Sam as well, through various high schools, as well as their mug shots from a variety of arrests and Sam's school I.D. "Yep, sweetheart, that's definitely your daddy."

She debated calling Bobby, but decided against it. She knew the boys would get out of it. That's what they were good at.

* * *

**March Twelfth, **

Ryan eyed the building with trepidation. She was about to do something crazy. Really crazy. And for her, that said something. She stood a bit taller and walked in.

"Be with ya in a second, hun!" the huge, pierced and tattooed man called from behind the desk.

She perused the art on the walls and swallowed her nerves before smiling as the man came over. "The name's Hank. What can I do for ya, sweetie?"

She bit her lip. "I want two pieces done. I'm sure I'll need them done separately, since they're in two different areas…"

"Sure, sure. You know what you want?"

She nodded and pulled out the two drawings she had mocked. "These just give you an idea of what I want them to look like."

He eyed them curiously. "Is the Latin right on this? I don't do refunds."

She laughed despite herself. "Yeah, it's right. Trust me. Do you have someone that can do it?"

The man nodded. "Sure. I can…"

"A female, perhaps?"

He smiled. "Yeah, we can do that. Trish! Got'cha a customer!"

The woman, Trish, had more ink than empty skin walked over. "Hiya, kid! What's up?"

"Got you a job," the man, Hank, stated. "You got time?"

"Hell yeah! Give me five, let me get my work station ready!" she commented as she dashed off to another room.

Hank turned to her. "She's hyper, but I love her. You will too, by the time you're done with her." He paused. "You a novice?"

Ryan laughed. "Not necessarily," she stated as she pulled her shirt sleeves up to show off her tattoos, and her scars. "I've had this done, and I've got some other work on my back. But for where I want this next one…" she bit her lip. "I'm…wary of men, okay? It's not you, it's me."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's cool. My sister's the same way." He looked at her sorrowfully. "You doing okay? She didn't do too well for a long while after it happened."

She sucked in a shocked breath, but blew it out and nodded. "Yeah, it was years ago."

He gazed at her. She was almost twenty eight years old, but she knew she looked a bit young for her age. Being away from the hunting had helped her not to age quite as quickly as others in the biz. "You're awful young for it to have been years ago," Hank commented softly.

She gave him a sad smile. It had been almost seventeen years since her attack. The years had dulled the ache, the fear, but nothing could erase it. "Well, not everyone gets a happy childhood, right?"

His eyes darkened. "They catch the bastard?"

"Bastard_s_," she corrected and nodded. "Yeah. They were…taken care of."

"Good. Me and my boys? We don't appreciate men disrespecting girls or women, you feel me?"

She smiled then, a true smile. "Your sister is very lucky to have you in her life."

"I like to think so," he told her with a chuckle. "So, where you want them? I'll get the info from you before Trish gets you inked. We'll get you scheduled for the other while we're here."

She followed him back to the desk as they discussed what she wanted, and where and they decided the tattoo on her shoulder would be done first, then, she could get the other one, on her stomach. It took no time at all for Trish to come get her, and before Ryan realized it, she was sitting on the tattoo chair, backwards, in just her bra and jeans.

"You okay for this?" Trish asked softly.

Ryan nodded nervously. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just…this is something I've wanted."

"Okay, so, 'non timebo mala'. It's Latin, right? What does that mean?"

"It means 'I fear no evil'."

"Oh. I like that. I might have to steal it from you."

Ryan chuckled. "Go for it. I've stolen it from someone else." She knew it was engraved on Samuel Colt's gun, she'd read it in the Gospel. It seemed appropriate to steal it. She couldn't fear any evil, not anymore. She had a child to protect.

"Great wing work, by the way. Who is the artist?"

Ryan's lips quirked. "Oh, a guy I met down in New Orleans, Gabriel."

"Wish you had his information. I'd love to have some wings like that."

Ryan chuckled. "They're one in a million, that much is for sure."

"I love the light and dark contrasts. It almost makes them look as if you could touch the feathers."

The woman started humming softly to the radio and Ryan couldn't help but smile as she hummed along to "Smoke on the Water" also. "We're kindred spirits," Ryan mused.

"Yeah, I noticed the lyrics on your arms."

"They remind me not to give up."

Trish lifted her sleeve to show Ryan a scar similar to her own and the trail of dandelion wisps along with "All We Are is Dust in the Wind."

Ryan's smile was grim. "Suicide sisters."

"Luckily my brother got to me in time," Trish stated softly.

Ryan's brows knit. "Hank. You're his sister."

Trish nodded.

"You're lucky. I don't have a brother. I don't have anyone, not anymore, except my daughter. She's my reason for living now."

"But she wasn't the reason you got those on your arm," Trish commented as she touched Ryan's back to prepare her.

Ryan shook her head gently. "No, those were because of a very dear friend. He helped me get focused as to what I wanted to do with my life." She sucked in a breath as the pain began, but she focused and began relishing it. The gentle tugs and the sharp stings soon lulled her into a zen-like state. The pain was relaxing, almost. She'd forgotten how good it felt to feel the tattoo take shape.

"All done," Trish said a while later. "You aren't dizzy or anything, are you?"

Ryan shook her head. "No. I'm eager to see it." She stood and when she didn't waver, Trish led her over to the mirror and handed her a small one so she could check out her reflection. "This is perfect, Trish. Thanks!"

Trish grinned. "Good. Now, we'll see you in a few weeks for your next one. A Doctor Who inspired tattoo, correct?"

Ryan nodded. "Can you do T.A.R.D.I.S. blue?"

Trish scoffed. "Is a fat baby heavy? Of course I can!"

Ryan laughed. "Alright then. Thanks, Trish. This is excellent."

Ryan stepped out the door a few moments later just as her phone rang. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Bobby."

"What's up, Bobby?"

"Feel like working a case for me?"

She grinned. She felt like a new person. "Abso-friggin-lutely. What'cha got?"

* * *

**June Fifth, **

Ryan's pocket began vibrating. She dug her phone out of her jeans and flipped it open. "Hey, kid," Bobby's voice said as soon as Ryan answered the phone.

"Hey, Bobby! What's happening?"

"Wanted to let you know there's a shitstorm brewing."

Ryan rolled her eyes as she walked back into the house. She had gone to get the mail. Today was her day off from the small accounting firm where she was working as a secretary. The job sucked, but it allowed Hope to have a somewhat normal life. The kid was even in daycare. Ryan didn't want to smother the baby, so when she'd turned a year old, Ryan had went out and got herself a real job. Ryan hated every minute of the menial tasks her boss handed her, but she loved her daughter, and that was the important thing.

"Isn't there always?" she said as she tossed the mail on the table and took a sip of the coffee she'd left to cool on the countertop.

"Yeah, well, just giving you a warnin'. I know you ain't keen on demons and we've had an influx of them recently."

Ryan swallowed hard and sank into the kitchen chair. "What do you mean, 'an influx of demons', Bobby?"

He sighed. "Look, there was extenuating circumstances and…"

"Spit it out," she implored.

"This thing called The Devil's Gate was opened and a bunch of demons spilled out of the thing before we could close it."

She gasped. "What?"

"We're getting it under control…"

"And by 'we' you mean you and the Winchester boys?"

"Yeah."

She bit her lip, thinking. She could easily get a babysitter. She felt safe enough leaving Hope with someone here, in her house. She had done it only a few times before, for jobs, but she could do it again, if she needed to. "Do I need to come up there?"

"Hell, girl, I know you and those black eyed sons-of-bitches don't mix…"

"Bobby…" she sighed. "Bobby, thanks for looking out for me, and for not sending me on more demon runs, but I can handle it. I've exorcized a few of them, you know." She had begun taking a few odd jobs here and there when she could snag a weekend away from Hope. She still kept her skills up, even when she was pregnant; she had continued training, shooting, throwing knives, so she was still as sharp as a tack.

"I do, girl, but they're your Achilles heel. I don't feel right about sending you out by yourself on those."

That put her back up. "Are you saying I'm incapable, Bobby Singer?"

"Hell no, kid. You're better at the job than half the people I know, but demons…they get in your head…"

"And we all know my head isn't screwed on straight to begin with," she finished.

"That ain't what I said. I swear, you young'uns are all a bunch of idjits. Damn it. Gonna put me in an early grave, the lot of you."

Her lip quirked despite herself. "What do you want me to do? Apologize?"

"Nah, that ain't your style."

She rubbed her temple. "Look, Bobby, I'm doing my own thing, but if you need help, you know I'd drop everything to give you a hand." She meant it, too. She would find somewhere safe for Hope to stay, then, she would help the Winchesters if she had to…if they wanted her to. She had been longing to see Dean again, but she wasn't sure yet if it was in the cards. Besides, it wasn't like she had a telephone number for the Angel of the Lord who'd rewired her innards.

"I'll keep it in mind, girl. Go on, I just wanted to give you a heads up since we just finished a job in Nebraska."

"You did?"

"Yeah. The Seven Deadly Sins. Nasty work, but we've got them all back down in Hell now, but if they got out, God knows what else got out."

Her blood ran cold as she thought of the demon that possessed her. "You keep me posted, okay?"

"Yep. For now, it looks like most of them are staying 'round here. The Devil's Gate was in South Dakota, now we're in Nebraska. I'll let you know if they move. You still east of here?"

She forced herself to take a breath. "Yeah. Indiana."

"Alright. Just keep your ear to the ground, let me know if something comes up you can't handle, alright? And look after yourself, kid."

"You do the same," she whispered as she heard him disconnect. Her breath started coming in short pants and she had to force herself to calm down as she felt the panic attack start. No, he wouldn't come here. That demon wouldn't know how to find her, right?

She heard Hope babbling from her room and knew the baby was now up from her nap. Maybe it would pay to move, just to be on the safe side…

* * *

**February Third, **

"Damn it, Bobby," Ryan seethed into the phone as she tried, yet again, to get him to answer. "Where are you when I need you?"

She sighed and rubbed her eyes before she blinked them open and looked at the map on her wall. So far, she'd managed to pinpoint the vengeful spirit's body. It had been cremated, so she was back to square one. Clearly, this thing was mobile, so she didn't know if she was facing ghost sickness, ghost possession, or if someone knew they had a ghost and decided to carry a piece of the thing with them everywhere they went.

Her phone rang and she picked it up, not bothering to look at the caller ID. "Bobby?"

"No, sweetheart, it's Ellen."

Ryan blew out a breath. "Hey, Ellen, how's it going?"

"Good. You find Bobby yet?"

"No. If I can't find him by the time I finish up this supposed simple salt-and-burn, I'll go up there."

"Well, someone wants to say hi to you."

Ryan was all smiles as Hope's tiny voice said, "Mama!"

"Hey, baby. You having fun with Ellen?"

"Home?"

"Yeah, sweetness, I'll be home soon."

"Bye!"

Ryan chuckled as Ellen came back on the phone. "She's a cute kid your cousin has. Too bad you're stuck with her."

The sharp sting of Ellen's tone didn't bother Ryan; she knew Ellen was just worried about her. Ellen was a mother hen. She worried about all the younger hunters. "Hey, you didn't do too bad raising a kid, Ellen."

"Yeah, but I wasn't the hunter in our family, either."

Ryan blew out another breath. "Well, I'm all the family the kid's got while my cousin is in rehab." It was the excuse she had began working on; the mysterious cousin who was hopped up on drugs in a rehabilitation facility. It was working, too. No one questioned it if you said it with enough conviction, and, hey, she was a hunter, a trained liar, just like Gabriel said. "And I have to keep hunting, especially when a freaking ghost basically shows up on my doorstep." She had been horrified when the events began happening in her and Hope's hometown. She had shuffled Hope off to one of the safest places she could think of, which happened to be Harvelle's Roadhouse, and raced back to Lancing, Michigan, to take care of things. She would move, too, yet again, before this was over. She didn't want anything supernatural touching her daughter yet.

"Alright, well, handle your ghost and hurry back. I'm not a babysitting service." She paused, then, "Damn it, Ash! The baby does not drink beer! I gotta go, sugar. Be safe."

Ryan chuckled as she snapped her phone closed before she began looking over her data again.

* * *

**June Twelfth, **

Ryan blew out a stuttering breath as she drove up to Singer Salvage. She hadn't seen Bobby since before the baby, though she had talked to him a handful of times on the phone and had taken a few jobs from him, too. The news she had read caused her to drop everything in her life outside of Dallas, Texas, and drive the fourteen hours (taking two days since she had toddler with her) to his door.

She pulled the sleeping girl from her car seat in the inky twilight and walked to Bobby's door with renewed tears. She couldn't believe it, she refused to. But The Winchester Gospels weren't wrong. She had followed up with them often enough to verify their legitimacy. Dean was dead. Gone. Killed by hell hounds for a deal he made to save Sam's life. She knew it. She wasn't sure why she needed to see Bobby to verify it, but she did.

She knocked on the door and heard, "I'm coming, damn it! Can't people not bother me when I'm…" he wrenched open the door and finished, "Busy. Ryan?"

She let out a sob and flung herself into Bobby's arms. "Bobby! Is it true?"

Her cries woke the little girl who blinked owlishly around.

"Ryan…what's going on? Who's the kid? What are you talking about?"

She sniffed back her sobs and pushed past Bobby to sit her little one down on the floor, digging out a cup of juice and a pack of saltines for the little girl, along with a stuffed bear from her impossibly large bag. She turned and Bobby just gave her a sad look before opening his arms again. She fell into them, sobbing. "Is Dean dead?"

She felt him nod. "He is, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

She started sobbing all the harder and she felt him guide her to the sofa. "B-but what happened, Bobby? Don't demon deals last for ten years? What the fuck happened?"

He didn't question where she got her information. The hunting community was a huge gossip fest and she wasn't about to tell him about The Gospels.

Those stories…She had devoured the first one, read it three times, in fact. Every computer printed story after that had held amazement and wonder as she learned how to kill a Wendigo with the boys, watched them take care of a scarecrow who was a would be pagan god, and on it went through the years, through John's deal with the yellow eyed demon, through Dean's meeting of a Reaper, through Sam's kidnapping and death, to Dean making the deal, thinking his life wasn't worth more than a year, their meeting of the demon, Ruby, who wanted to help them, all the way up to Lilith and her horrors and Dean being dragged to hell and Lilith's disappearance.

That was the last manuscript she'd gotten and she had freaked out. Granted, they came months apart, but when she'd received this one, three days ago, she had to come see Bobby as soon as she sobbed her way through the last page.

"Where's Sam?" she managed.

"Hunting."

"Have you seen him? I'd like to…"

"Like to what? Who is the kid, Ryan?"

"Sh-she's mine." There was no need to hide this from Bobby. Ellen? Those hunters at the roadhouse? Certainly. But not from Bobby. You couldn't bullshit him if you tried.

Bobby's eyebrow shot up. "Uh-huh. And if I was to ask who her daddy was, would you bullshit me and tell me she wasn't Dean Winchester's kid?"

Ryan's mouth fell open before she snapped it shut. "Bobby…"

"You let him knock you up? Damn it, you kids are going to kill me. And you never told him, right?"

She thought about what she'd read, how he had met up with the girl from his past, Lisa. That had hurt to read just as it hurt to know it was possible Hope had a half-brother out in the world she would more than likely never meet. Dean cared for Lisa, maybe even more, now that he knew she had a kid. And she knew he'd loved that girl, Cassie. He never thought of her, Ryan, not that The Gospels showed. That was fine. It bothered her, but it was better she stayed out of his thoughts. It would be too hard to explain.

"Hope is…special."

He looked at the little girl. "Hope, huh? Cute name. Cuter kid. She's yours, looks like ya a bit, but I'm not an idiot. You don't wanna say it, that's fine. I'll respect that." He eyed her. "You want booze?"

She smiled despite herself. "Yeah, I think I do. You mind if we crash for the night?"

He shook his head. "You got something you can put her in she won't get out and mess with anything?"

Ryan nodded. "I have a pack-and-play. She'll stay in there to sleep. She's not much of a climber."

"I remember Sam at that age, kid was like a monkey. John couldn't keep him in anything. I thought he was going to have to build a cage to stash the kid in just so he wouldn't wander off. Dean never left John's side. Sam, well, he was always eager to see and explore, damn the consequences."

She smiled at the love for the boys she heard in his words and she held in another sob. She walked to the trunk of Demon and grabbed the portable bed as well as Hope's bag. She got it set up, got the little girl ready for bed, and put her down. It was after midnight and she knew the kid was exhausted. Hope had been sleeping fitfully in her car seat for the last three hours. She was tired, too, but she had to know, had to talk to Bobby.

She walked back downstairs and found him with a bottle and two glasses. She downed the first dose he handed her, and at her raised eyebrow, he poured more alcohol in the glass. She downed it as well and winced. "You know, I really hate whiskey, but God, does it help numb things."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"What happened? There wasn't any way he could get out of the deal?" Even reading of their struggles hadn't made it easier to comprehend. They were the Winchesters. They always found their ways out of weird shit. The deal should have been easy to find their way out of, shouldn't it?

Bobby shook his head. "We tried. If we could have got the demon bitch that had his contract, it would have been easier. We almost had her, but she's crafty."

"Can I help?"

He sat back and folded his arms. "Help with what?"

"Kill the bitch," she stated simply. Dean Winchester was supposed to live, damn it. He was…they were…no, she wouldn't think about it. Not now.

Bobby shot her a look. "How much you hunted lately, Ryan? Seems as though you've been busy raising a kid."

"Damn it, Bobby, Dean means something to me."

"And he's in Hell, sweetheart. I wish to God he wasn't, but there's absolutely nothing we can do about it now."

"We could get him back. We could…"

"Make a deal?" he provided. "You honestly think Sam didn't try that? No one wants to deal. Not for Dean."

She was almost physically knocked back at the statement. "But…but _why_?" Obviously Dean was special for some reason. Gabriel wouldn't have made the deal with her for Hope otherwise, but what did Hell and it's rulers know about Dean that she didn't?

"I wish I knew."

They were silent for a few moments. "Can I have Sam's number? I would like to…"

"To what? Tell him he's an uncle?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "No. I have my reasons for not telling anyone. Reasons I would like for you to respect, Bobby Singer."

They stared at one another before he blew out a breath. "Yeah, kid, sure. Who am I going to tell? You don't want it known the kid is a Winchester. Honestly, I don't blame you. Keep your head down."

"Thanks, Bobby." She sipped the alcohol this time and wrinkled her nose. "I haven't hunted much, you're right. But I still train. I'm not letting my skills go flaccid. I partnered up with a few hunters on a big case down in Oklahoma a few months back. They didn't know about Hope. No one in the hunting community knows she's even mine, and they certainly don't know she's Dean's. I've told everyone she's my cousin's kid, and that I was looking after her while my cousin was in rehab."

"Good. Keep it that way. Hunter's kids have a way of getting, well, hunted. Or killed just because. Don't let her become something that puts you in jeopardy, Ryan. Get out, stay out."

"I can't," she said simply.

He shook his head. "I should know John Winchester would be the bastard you'd look up to. Gonna raise the kid in the life, are you?"

She pursed her lips. She couldn't tell him about Gabriel, couldn't tell him she had no choice. "Bobby, demons almost killed me as a kid. You really think I _wouldn't _tell her about the things that go bump in the night? I'm not quite the paranoid asshole John was. I'm learning how to parent her with all the knowledge of the evil of this world. I'll…I'll find a way to make it work."

"Keep telling yourself that, kid."

She sighed. "We'll be gone in the morning," she supplied.

"You ain't gotta leave, girl. Stick around a few days."

She bit her lip. "Does-Does she look that much like Dean?" She saw Hope every day. She _wanted _to see Dean in her, but she didn't know anyone else that knew him, so she couldn't ask.

He chuckled flatly. "Yeah, she does. 'Cept she doesn't have his green eyes."

Ryan held back a sob. "I know. I almost lost it the day her blue eyes turned brown. I kept hoping they'd turn green."

"She's beautiful, Ryan. Really."

Ryan gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, Bobby."

"You know, you could move up here. Be closer to someone that knows ya, cares about ya."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was the best she felt sure he could offer…a chance to stay and watch the next generation of someone he loved grow up. "Thanks, Bobby, but I can't. I have to keep her as far away from other hunters as possible."

"I get it." He picked up a piece of paper and wrote a number on it. "Here's Sam's number. His real one. He'll answer it no matter what."

She took it and pocketed the paper. "Thanks."

They finished their drinks and she stood. "I'll go to bed. We really will need to leave. I just…I had to be sure."

"If Sam can find a way out of this for Dean, I swear, I'll call you."

She hugged him again. "Thanks, Bobby."

* * *

**September Eighteenth,**

It was months later when Hope came running into the kitchen where Ryan was mixing up ingredients for her grandmother's peach cobbler recipe. "Mama!"

Ryan smiled and scooped the little girl up. "Hey, Hopey. What's got you so happy?"

"Mama! I's gots news!"

Ryan chuckled and nuzzled her nose into the little girl's neck. She was advanced for a two and a half year old, surprising the doctors with her language. At this age, she should be able to say a handful of words, but the sentences wouldn't come until later. Of course, Ryan was quite a talker, and she talked to the girl constantly, so she just assumed that was the reasoning behind Hope's superior vocabulary.

Hope had been watching television in the living room while Ryan cooked for her work's bake sale. She had to find a way to make money, so, she had gotten a job at the local Outreach mission. It didn't provide her with a lot of income, but she liked the fact she was giving back to the community in any way she could. Plus, the fact she could break up a fight between the homeless, should the need arise, was also a bonus. They were hosting a charity event the next day, with a bake sale and rummage sale in addition to a silent auction for higher priced items. She was in charge of the bake sale. So far, her kitchen was littered with pies, cobblers, and cookies.

She focused on the little girl. "What's that, sweetie?"

"Daddy's otay!"

Ryan's heart clenched. "What did you say?"

"Da angels says Daddy's otay!"

Ryan's brows knit. "Honey, what are you talking about?" Ryan made it a point to talk about Dean to Hope. She wanted her daughter to know who her father was, what a great man he was, how noble. She had pictures of Dean she showed the girl and they talked about how he hunted bad things, like Batman, but Ryan had never mentioned Dean was in trouble of any kind. After all, how did you explain to your toddler that her daddy was being tortured in hell?

"I's hweard it, Mama. Dey say 'Dean Winchester is saved'. So's, he's otay, Mama."

Ryan's legs went out from under her and she had to grasp the countertop to hold herself steady.

"Hopey…"

But the little girl ignored her as she squirmed out of her mother's grasp and went to climb into one of the kitchen chairs at the table where her Lego's were waiting and proceeded to build a pyramid.

Ryan blinked. _What just happened? _

Hours later, they were finishing up supper when her telephone rang. "Hello?" she managed as she extracted herself from the pile of dishes in the sink. She smiled over at Hope, who despite saying she'd heard angels talking, seemed to be her usual sunny self.

"Ryan, it's Bobby. Listen, I can't talk long, but you won't believe this. Somehow, Dean's back."

She felt the unconsciousness of fainting begin to envelope her and she sank to the floor of her kitchen and sobbed in relief.

She somehow managed to make it through the rest of the evening. She pretended to be normal for Hope, though her mind was reeling, and finally, she got the little girl bathed and in bed. She got out the bottle of bourbon, downed a generous swig, snagged a huge slice of cobbler, and bowed her head. She needed answers. And the last time she checked, there was only one angel on speaking terms with her. "Dear Gabriel, I pray to thee to get thou feathery ass down here and explain to me what the actual hell is going on. Amen."

She looked up and there he sat in the chair across from her. "Oh, cobbler. Is this for me?"

She lifted a fork and held it out to him, but then snatched it away. "Explanation time, dear Gabe."

He snatched the fork back from her and grinned. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Dean?"

He took a bite of the cobbler and moaned. "Wow. This is really good. You'll have to give me your recipe. I'll have to see if I can reproduce it. Delish."

"Dean," she implored.

Gabriel took another bite, wiped his mouth, and said, "Yeah, he's important. So, my little bro got him out of Hell. No biggie."

Her eyebrow shot up. _No biggie? _"Okay. I'll just…I'll just go with that. But what about Hope?"

"What about her? She's cute. I should have known pretty Dean and beautiful you would make a gorgeous child."

She ignored the compliment. "How did _she _know you got him out?"

Gabriel blinked. "What?"

"How did she know you got him out? She came running in here and said she heard 'Dean Winchester is saved' in her head."

His eyes widened. "That…that's not possible."

She crossed her arms. "That's what I thought."

"No, I mean, she said that, exactly that?"

"Y-yes?" she stated uncertainly.

He blew out a breath. "That was verbatim what Castiel said. She…she appears to have heard Angel Radio."

She leaned back in her chair. "What is that?"

"A way we communicate. Where is the little girl?"

She didn't like the sound of alarm in his voice. "In-in her room, asleep. Why?"

Gabriel stood. "I need to see her. Now."

"Gabe, you're scaring me."

He seemed to be forcing himself to calm down. "Show her to me, please."

She stood as well and walked quietly to Hope's room.

Gabriel went and sat on the bed next to her and put his hand on her head. She was asleep on her stomach with her knees under her, her tush in the air. Gabriel closed his eyes and Ryan saw a soft blue light emanate from him to touch her daughter. His brows knit and he smirked as he pulled away. "Well, damn. Oops."

"Oops? You're saying 'oops' about my kid? What is going on?" _Don't panic, Ryan. He's an angel. He created you a uterus, I feel sure he could heal whatever is wrong with Hopey…right?_

Gabriel smiled. "I seem to have been a bit overzealous when I gave you her, Ryan."

She backed out of the room and beckoned him to follow her. Once he shut Hope's bedroom door he rounded to her and she slapped his face. "What the fuck, Gabriel?"

He just looked at her. "I gave the kid some Angel Grace by accident. It won't hurt her. She'll be more empathetic to people's hurts. She may even be able to heal some wounds. She's fine, Ryan."

"Your words say she's fine, but your eyes say something else."

He winced. "Yeah, well, it could potentially be a problem. So I'll fix it."

"You'll take it away?"

He shook his head. "Oh no, I'm not going to do that. It will be good for her later. In fact, it might be even better for her in the long run. No, I'm going to just give you both some marks so no angels will be able to see you."

She thought of the tattoo on her back, the anti-possession sigil with the angel wings that bore his name in Hebrew. "O-okay…"

"It'll hurt. I'll make sure she's deep enough asleep not to feel the pain, but it will hurt you tremendously."

Ryan licked her lips nervously. "Okay," she repeated.

He grasped her arm and walked her back to the kitchen. "I'd prefer you sit."

She plopped her butt in the chair and eyed him warily when all of a sudden pain flared through her and she gasped as she felt the blinding white heat travel through her body. It was over as soon as it started but she sucked in a breath. "What was that?"

"I gave you sigils, markings on your bones to protect you against other angels. No others besides me will be able to find you. Now, let's do the kid."

"Will it hurt her that bad?"

He didn't answer. She trailed along behind him as he walked into Hope's room once more. He touched her and waved his hand over her, but the little girl didn't move. He smiled. "Well, good. The Grace saved it from hurting her."

They walked back out of her room. "You'll both be fine, Ryan."

"And Dean is okay?"

"He's alive. He may not be what one would deem 'okay'. You can't go to Hell and not be scarred, but he'll survive."

"Will I see him again?"

Gabriel smiled. "I'd count on it."

She took a deep breath. She wasn't sure she could handle any more information than that. "You know, I read the Gospels. I should toast your wings in holy fire for hurting the boys like you have."

He smiled, shamefaced. "What? Can't I have some fun with two dickheads?"

"You hurt Sam, you know, doing what you did."

"And we got Dean out of hell. I just needed Sam to see how he needed to let him go."

"You aren't going to apologize for any of that, are you?"

"Nope."

She let out a sigh of defeat. He was, after all, a supreme being to her lowly human self. "Okay. Good enough." She paused. "Thank you, by the way, Gabriel, for helping me tonight. You didn't have to come."

He smiled sadly. "You won't see me again, Ryan."

She blinked. "Why not?"

"Because, my time is coming to a close. I have choices to make. It will end me."

"Archangels can die?" She knew, from the Gospels, that some angels had been dying recently, but she didn't know archangels could die as well.

He snorted. "Yeah, we can. In fact…" Something slid into his right hand and he gave it to her. "This is an angel blade. It is one of the few things in existence that can truly kill an angel. I'm trusting you with this on the off chance you ever need it. And this…" he tapped her forehead and sigils swam before her eyes. "Those are some sigils to protect you against angels in the off chance you get surrounded by them. I don't anticipate you needing to know them, but, the world _is _going to Hell in a hand basket, so who's to say my brothers and sisters don't start coming down and wading into the fray."

She held the blade up for inspection. It was silver and double sided. It was absolutely the most gorgeous weapon she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"This Angel Blade is wicked useful though, since almost anything supernatural can be killed by it."

At that, she looked back up at him. "Anything?"

He nodded. "For the most part. But I warn you, guard it with your life. I don't need it getting out about these little beauties."

She shot him a look. "Gabe, who am I going to tell?"

He chuckled and tapped her nose, causing her to purse her lips. "That's what I'm betting on, sweet cheeks."

They were both silent for a moment as she tested the weight of the blade. It was well balanced, that much was for sure, and she wondered just where in the world or universe, rather, it had been forged. "So, you are afraid you won't make it out of this alive?"

He snorted. "Trust me. Big bro is too big of a dick to let me live. But, hey, that's cool. You and these kids and the Winchesters are my ace in the hole. One day you'll figure it out."

She barely knew the angel, but she didn't like the thoughts of him dying and she felt a tear spill out onto her cheek.

He grinned. "Hey, hey, no crying for old Gabe. Trust me. Aren't you still pissed I've dicked them both over a few times? And you're still crying for me? I figured you'd probably want to gut me like a fish with that," he gestured to the blade in her hand. "Anyway, it's okay. I'm resigned, which is why I made the trip back in time."

"Are you future you or past you? How did you know to come?"

His smile grew. "Archangel. Trickster. Don't worry, I've got more than a few tricks up my sleeves. And who knows? Maybe I did come visit you again in the future. So, maybe you will see me again."

"You're an evasive sort, Gabe."

He laughed at that. "Yeah. Trickster _is_ my nickname, after all."

She smiled at him and hugged him. "Thank you. For Hope. I don't think I remembered to thank you from before."

He returned the hug. "Well, hey, never let it be said I didn't do something good for the world."

She pulled away and turned. "You want to try some pie?" But when he didn't answer, she turned back, only to realize she was alone in the room. "Weird…"

* * *

**June Thirteenth, **

Ryan didn't knock as she walked into Bobby's house. "Bobby?"

"Hey, girl," Bobby's soft voice called from his office room. Ryan held in the gasp to see the man that she always thought was larger than life, sitting in a wheelchair. "Come on, I don't look that bad, do I?"

She smiled and bent to kiss his bearded cheek. "Hey."

"And you brought the kid," Bobby's voice was kind as he held out his arms for the little girl who eagerly sat in his lap. "Hey, little girl."

"Bobby!" the little girl giggled and snuggled into him.

Bobby smiled. "She's cute, Ryan. What are you two doing here?"

Ryan shrugged as she plopped down onto the couch. "We just thought we'd stop in and visit."

"Uh-huh, and you just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh? If it was just you, I'd half believe it, but with the kid…"

Ryan ignored him as she pulled out a cup of juice for Hope. "We wanted to come and check on you," Ryan admitted.

"I'm not dying, girl, I'm just in this damn chair."

"I know."

"How did you find out, anyway?"

She smiled. "I have my ways."

He looked at her pointedly.

"Rufus. Apparently he talked to Dean."

"And you thought it would be safe to bring the girl? What if Dean was here, huh?"

"I'd cross that bridge when I came to it, Bobby. I'm not _hiding _her from Dean, I'm just…not telling him."

"You're hiding her from everyone, everyone 'cept me. Don't know what I did to deserve such favor…"

She just looked at him. "I can't fool you, Bobby. You know those boys better than their own daddy did. I couldn't lie to you. To Ellen, to the rest of the hunting community, sure, but not you."

"Speaking of hunting community, I've heard you've been hunting, girl. What the hell are you doing that for?"

"I told you, I'm keeping my skills up. Just a few jobs here and there, I'm keeping my contacts, just…keeping myself sharp."

"You're a damn fool," he muttered.

She shrugged. "Maybe I am, but when a case all but falls in my lap, I have to do something about it."

"Yeah, but, hunting by yourself?"

"Not often," she stated petulantly. "Rarely ever, actually."

"You get yourself killed, I'll find a way to resurrect you so I can kill you again, kid."

She laughed. "I should hope so, Bobby."

"This is a mess, Ryan. You ought to tell Dean. He could use some good news…"

Her eyebrow shot up. "And finding out he's got a kid is good news?"

"Maybe. He was sprung from Hell, Ryan. That ain't no laughing matter."

She bit her lip. The things she had read in The Gospels…she wasn't sure Dean was in the right mind space for a kid. "I feel sure eventually he'll find out. For now, though…"

"For now, you're being a world class idjit, Ryan Fawcett."

She shot him a look. "Tell me something I don't already know."

Neither spoke for a few moments before Bobby sighed. "Well, you're here. Wanna give me a hand with some lore?"

"Lore? What kind?" Ryan asked as she stood.

"The biblical kind."

That stopped her dead and she turned to look at him. Hope had gotten down from Bobby's lap and walked to Ryan's bag to root around inside for her toys. "What?"

"Looks like we've got ourselves an apocalypse."

She blinked once, twice, then grasped the edge of Bobby's desk for support. "You're shitting me."

"I wish."

She sighed. "Damn it. Just when I think the world can't get any more fucked up, _this _happens." She was beginning to wonder what the point of having Hope was if they were all going to be dead anyway.

"Get in line, girl. It only gets more complicated from here."

* * *

**November Twenty-First,**

Ryan made a mad dash for the phone, causing Hope to giggle as Ryan stumbled and fell onto the couch. "Damn it," Ryan growled while Hope laughed.

Ryan stuck her tongue out at her. "You think you're so funny, little miss, just because you're three now."

"Mama is funny!" Hope clapped her hands.

Ryan rolled her eyes. "Yo," she bellowed into the phone.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah, hey, Bobby. What's up?"

"You heard from Dean?"

She sat up on the couch as Hope climbed into her lap, bringing her stuffed bear with her and a book. "No, why?"

"I can't get him. Him or Sam. That ain't like them."

"I'm sure they're busy…they on a case?"

"Yeah. Some lady said it's The Incredible Hulk."

Ryan snorted out a laugh. "Bana or Ferrigno?"

"Ha, ha, I didn't ask."

She thought a moment, then laughed again. "Well, that's one for the record books, for sure. I was always a Ferrigno fan, myself. I remember Daddy watching that when I was a little girl. Or maybe it was the reruns on TV Land, I don't remember." She paused. "The boys think it's anything they can't handle?"

"Nah, I'm sure those idjits are fine, I just wondered. They're in Ohio, so I didn't know if maybe you'd heard from them."

She had forgotten she'd told Bobby where she was. Or at least, which state she was currently residing in, anyway. "I'm down by Cincinnati, you call me if they don't turn up, I'll go hunt them for you."

"Thanks, Ryan, I'll do that. Their angel friend is about half frantic looking for them. I guess if he can't find them, I'll have to get some humans in on it."

"Angel?"

"Don't ask. But, yeah, lore's about half right on them, too. You stay away from them. They seem dangerous."

She thought of Gabriel and nodded, though Bobby couldn't see her. "Will do. Let me know if you don't find them, alright?"

"Yep. See ya, girl."

She heard the phone disconnect and she looked at her daughter, who was pulling up the tabs on her pop-up book. "Your daddy and your uncle are the world's worst for getting into trouble. I sure hope they're alright."

* * *

**Unknown Date (I can only do so much with the timelines. Sorry…it's a bit vague)**

There was something wrong. Something bad. Ryan could almost taste the metallic evil in the air. When the telephone rang, she answered it with a sense of foreboding. "Hello?"

"Hey, girl."

"Bobby, what is it? Is it Dean?"

"No, him and his fool brother are both okay."

"Then…what's going on?"

"It's Jo, and Ellen. They're dead, sugar."

She gasped and collapsed into the recliner. "No. When?"

"Few days ago."

"You didn't think I'd like to come to the funeral?"

"I didn't want you there, to be honest."

His honesty cut her to the bone. "Why?" she managed as the tears fell.

His sigh was haggard. "Girl, Dean's torn up, okay? He feels responsible."

That sounded like the man she knew and loved. "He usually does."

"Look, it's done and over, okay? Just…I wanted ya to know."

"Yeah, okay, thanks, Bobby." They were both quiet for a moment before she asked, "What happened?"

"They went and tried to kill Lucifer."

She felt the shiver run down her spine at his name. "Bobby…is this going to get them both killed?"

"Girl, if they don't find a way to stop this, we're all going to be killed."

That's what she was afraid of.

* * *

**March Thirty-First, **

Ryan had just put Hope down for the night. She grabbed a glass of wine and sat down on the couch to read when Gabriel popped into the room.

"Fuck!" she growled as she jumped, spilling a splash of red wine onto the sofa. Luckily, it was leather. "A little warning would be nice, Gabriel," she muttered. But she took in the panic in his eyes and she stood quickly. "Gabriel? What is it?"

He sucked in a breath, then blew it out. "I need a favor. A big one."

"And bearing a child for no more reason other than because you asked is a _little_ favor?"

He smirked. "Ha, ha, ha. No, this one…it's bigger."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment before she inclined her head. "Okay."

"Okay…as in, yes?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, damn it. Whatever you need, you know I'll do it for you, Gabe."

His brows quirked. "Really? No matter what?"

"Short of sacrificing my only born, yes."

He chuckled. "Thanks, you're a doll."

"Would you care to tell me what it is I just agreed to?" But he was already gone. She didn't have the warm and fuzzies about this.

Three nights later, she felt it…a whisper on the breeze… "_Ryan…I need you. I'm here. Please let me in_."

"Gabriel?" she whispered as she blinked awake. She wasn't one hundred percent sure she wasn't still dreaming. "Where are you?"

"_Will you let me in_?"

Her brows furrowed. "Of course. Where are you?"

"_Will you let me in_?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Come in, Gabriel," she stated. She then gasped as the sensations rolled over her. It was similar to being possessed, but…not. She could feel him, inside her. "Damn it, Gabriel! What are you doing?"

_I'm sorry, Ryan. Your vessel is of the bloodline. You are one of the few that can contain me._

"You're in my head, Gabe! You're in my fucking _body_!"

_You said you would do anything I needed._

"Yeah, but that didn't include you riding piggyback for…how long will you need to hang out in me, anyway?"

_Until I'm strong enough, until my vessel is ready. _

"Hope? You're going to ask Hope…?"

_No. Of course not. Hope is her own. She has a greater purpose in life._

Well, wasn't that just terrifying to think about? "Fascinating," Ryan deadpanned, taking great care not to show her worry. "So, what, you're just going to possess me?"

_No. I am here, within you, but I won't hurt you, I won't take over your body. I'm weak. I'm so damn weak, Ryan. _

He didn't sound like his usual, sunny self. She hated to admit, she was worried about the angel now within her. "What did you do to get here?"

_Let's just say I used more dark magic than angel grace to get me here, okay? _

She didn't want to know. "So…what's doing? You're just gonna hang out in me for a while?"

_Yep-e-roo. I'll protect you, too. Keep you safe on the hunts when you go out, chillax in Casa De Ryan for a while…_

Well, _that _sounded more like the Gabriel she knew and tolerated. "When you say 'a while' how long do you mean?"

_Don't worry about that. Just let me rest…_

"Gabriel. Gabe! Damn it," she muttered as he went silent.

She stood and walked to the bureau. She stared at herself in the mirror. "Damn you, Gabriel," she growled at her reflection. She didn't _look _any different. And she didn't really _feel _any different either. "I know you can hear me in there, Gabe. If you fuck with me, I will find a way to expel you, understand?"

_I would never hurt you, _his tired reply came.

She pursed her lips. He really did sound like shit. "Fine. But you'd better not be rummaging around in my thoughts too much. Damn it. Like I need this…"

_I really am sorry, toots. If there was any other way…_

She sighed. "It's fine. So, I'm of the vessel lineage, huh? Is that why you want me hooking up with Dean? Get three of the four archangel vessel bloodlines together? What? Trying to make a super-race of angels or something?"

He didn't answer and her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. Rest up, you big pussy. I hope you're happy, chilling out inside a chick."

He didn't reply.

Time passed quickly for Ryan, despite Gabriel riding shotgun in her skin. Occasionally, he would have an opinion about something she was doing, a hunt she was on, but for the most part, he stayed silent within her. He told her how her family dated back to Norway, and how she was actually related to Loki's form. There were people all over the world he could have gone to, but he felt safest with her, she wasn't sure why, and she didn't ask. If he felt safe with her, she would protect him, just as he was now protecting her. The whole thing would have been weird had it not comforted her, knowing he would protect her while she was on a hunt. They began talking, also. She asked him if, during that day, at the park, he had healed her, saved her from her depression, and he admitted he had. He'd just barely touched her as she ran past him while he was invisible. He made her see her own self worth, and had helped her overcome that particular hurdle in her life. As someone who had suffered such mental anguish, she wished there were more angels walking around, doling out healing to those in need.

Life with Hope also settled, into a nice, normal routine and Ryan found the love of her life in her child. The girl had so many of Dean's characteristics, even though she'd never met him. She shared some with Ryan as well, but it was clear the little girl was her own person. She liked what she liked and no one needed to mess with that. She also had her own time constraints. She didn't like to be rushed.

Ryan became more comfortable with being not only a mother, but a hunter. She didn't hunt often, but kept up her skills. She was wary, but she enjoyed her life. That was a hard thing to do.

The Gospels still came and she devoured them hungrily each time one showed up on her doorstep, but she had finally resigned herself to the fact she would never seen Dean again. It wasn't okay…she cared very much what happened to both Winchesters. Not just because they were related to her daughter, but because she remembered what they had been, the sweet and innocent boys who saved her life.

When she received The Gospel that foretold of how the apocalypse ended, and how not only did the boys save the world but Sam fell into the cage, she mourned his loss. She had the phone in her hand to call Dean before she read on…about how Dean made his way to Lisa and found a home there.

It hurt worse than she could imagine, and in the darkest of nights, she found herself falling into the pit of despair over it. Only Hope helped her get through those blackest hours. When she came to realize she would never _have _Dean, she accepted it, and she was glad to know he had found some semblance of happiness. She had their daughter. That was enough for her. It was over. Their time had come to a close. She accepted it with a tearful smile. It was bittersweet. She would never have another child. But that was alright. She loved Hope with all her heart and all her soul.

* * *

**(The timeline gets screwy here in the show with Sam popping up out of Hell. All the records I've found online says the show decided to do "Soap Opera Time" which means they make it look as though time moved forward when it actually didn't. So, for the sake of my story, I'm going to go with that and say the characters continued on in their year just like the characters in the show. That's the best I can do. So…suspend belief? LOL I've tried my hardest, so I'm just doing the best I can, keeping this in line with the show. Hopefully everyone can follow along)**

* * *

**April – One Year Later…**

"Are you ready?" Ryan asked Hope as she put the last suitcase in the car. They had never been on a real family vacation and Ryan was adamant they were going, just the two of them, well, three, if she counted Gabriel, which, she didn't. She had always wanted to go on a cruise. She had booked two tickets, had one of Bobby's friends, Frank Devereaux, forge their documents, (including making Hope a bit older since she was tall for her age, so the little girl could do something she'd always wanted to do) and off they went for seven nights to the Caribbean.

It was unlike anything Ryan had ever done. There, she relaxed fully for the first time in her whole life. There were no spirits, no monsters, no demons, nothing. She still had Hope wear the anti-possession necklace (the little girl never took it off anyway) and she had a friend custom weld some silver and iron handles on her suitcases that looked ornate but she could take them off to become knives, and of course, she had the salt, just in case, though, she didn't pour the salt lines. She'd gotten crafty and suspicious as she grew older, but she was able to enjoy herself fully as she and Hope swam with dolphins in Jamaica and with stingrays off Grand Cayman.

It was the most perfect of vacations in existence and they both came back relaxed, tanned, and full of laughter. It was, however, short lived.

* * *

**May Twelfth,**

They hadn't been home a week when children began dying, drowning in basements around the town. It was odd, because there was no standing water. That was Ryan's first clue something was amiss. It only took her a few moments of research to figure out what it was. A Rawhead. And it wasn't being too cautious, either. Part of her was terrified for Hope, but the other part of her, the hunter in her, was pissed off. This thing wasn't going to come in and destroy her safety and security. She began hunting it.

So far, she'd had no good leads, but that didn't stop her from being cautious as she closely watched her daughter. They had just finished dinner when she heard the timer ding on the dryer. She hated the fact the washing machine and dryer was in the basement of the house, but, what could you do?

"Can I help?" Hope usually folded the washcloths, and, occasionally, Ryan let her fold some of the bigger things, too. Right now, they had been learning how to pair socks.

Ryan really didn't want her in the basement, but she sighed. "Sure, kiddo, why not?" She knew she couldn't act too off about this whole thing. Hope was intuitive. If she thought something was going on, she would freak out.

Ryan checked to make sure the taser was on her hip, along with her gun and knife, and they made their way down the stairs.

Ryan quickly looked around, and seeing nothing amiss, began pulling the towels out of the dryer. She tossed them into the laundry basket and loaded it with the sheets. "Mmmm, these sheets will smell wonderful to sleep on tonight," Ryan commented as she turned the dial.

"I like to sleep on the warm, clean sheets, Mommy. They smell like Heaven that way."

Ryan giggled and rolled her eyes. The little girl had quite the personality. Just then, Ryan heard the telephone ring upstairs. She pointedly ignored it as she glanced in Hope's direction. The child was singing along with the radio Ryan had playing as she folded washcloths.

The phone rang again and Hope looked at her. "You gonna go answer the phone, Mommy?"

"It can wait, or I can call them back."

The little girl shrugged and continued until she had a huge stack of brightly colored washcloths leaning like the Tower of Pisa on the dryer.

The phone rang one more time and Ryan sighed. "Come on, let's go see who it is." It was probably Bobby wanting her to go on another case. He was helping a new guy learn the biz. She had yet to meet Garth Fitzgerald IV, but he sounded like quite the character.

"Okay, Mommy."

Ryan started for the stairs and stopped. "You coming?"

The little girl nodded. "Yep. Right behind you!"

Ryan chuckled as she walked up the stairs. She barely made it to the kitchen when she heard Hope's scream. Her feet seemed to grow wings as she flew down the staircase just in time to see the beast hovering over her little girl. Ryan zapped it with the obviously not strong enough taser and it ran away. She stood to run after it when the small voice of her daughter weakly called, "Mama…"

Her hunter's instincts warred with the love for her daughter for only a fraction of a second before she scooped Hope into her arms and dashed up the stairs with her to begin calming her down.

That was no easy feat. After finally calming the child, giving her a dose of Tylenol to knock her out, she put her to bed and blew out a breath.

"Gabe, what do I do?" she asked. The angel was apparently going to stay around a while, and she had taken to asking his opinion about things.

_What do you think you should do? _

"I think I should go after it."

_I think you're right. _

"I was afraid you'd say that," she muttered. She called her neighbor, Mrs. Sandoval, who had become a friend and babysitter on occasion. The woman came over quickly enough and Ryan was all but sobbing as she opened the door.

"Ryan!" the woman called in her thick Brazilian accent. "What is wrong?"

Ryan quickly told the woman what had happened. "It's a Rawhead. If I don't go after it, a lot more children could die."

"You go. I stay with Hope."

"Could you?" Ryan trusted the woman implicitly. She was the great-aunt of her friend, Riana, from Brazil, so the woman knew of the Supernatural, enough to keep her daughter safe, in any case.

"Of course. She stay with me once before, yes?"

Ryan nodded. The woman had kept Hope before their vacation when Ryan went on a hunt with a new girl, Victoria Allard, or Tory, as she liked to be called, for a kitsune. The newbie was good, Ryan had to give her props. She was a few years older than Ryan, and had gotten into the life after her fiancé had been killed by a vampire. "Thank you, Mrs. Sandoval."

"You keep my Riana safe in Brazil, I keep your Hope safe here."

Ryan smiled and kissed the woman's cheek. She snatched up the bag she kept ready at all times and hit the road in pursuit of the thing. The only problem? She didn't know where it went, until a girl was drowned in the basement north of Nashville, Tennessee. From there, she followed a string of corpses that continued south west until she trailed it to a town outside of Little Rock, Arkansas.

She blew out an exhausted breath as she glared at the map in her room. She had been on the hunt for two weeks. Two weeks without her daughter. Two weeks trusting her care to someone else. She prayed fervently that someone upstairs was looking out for her kid as she desperately tried to kill this beast. She'd paid a guy in Tennessee to hop up her taser and for the right amount of green, he hadn't asked a single word, and her finger had hovered over Dean's number in her phone more times than she could count. She needed him there with her. This thing tried to kill their kid. He needed to help her. But she couldn't ask him that, she knew she couldn't. He was happy and situated and living a normal life somewhere, just like she had been up until a few weeks ago.

She finally scrolled through her phone. She hated to admit it, but she needed help. She wanted to get back to her daughter, damn it. She dialed Bobby. When he answered, she remained calm. She didn't need him going off and freaking out because she was freaked out. "Hey, Bobby. I've got a Rawhead down here in Arkansas. Think you could give me a hand?"

"Sorry, girl, I'm out of the country helping a hunter buddy. Give, ah, let's see…give Mark Campbell a call. You ever worked with him?"

She nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Yeah, I have."

He rattled off the number she already had and she murmured a quick "Thanks," before she hung up. She was ready to get this bastard taken care of so she could get back home to her girl. She quickly dialed the number. "Mark?" she asked when the voice answered.

"Yeah?" he asked in his soft-spoken voice.

"Hey, Ryan Fawcett."

"Hey, long time, no hear."

"Yeah, listen, I need help. I'm on a hunt down here in Arkansas. A Rawhead. You mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure. Got my cousin hunting with us now. He and I can come down."

She blew out a breath. "Thanks, Mark, really. I appreciate it."

"No problem. See you…tomorrow?" He paused and she felt sure he was figuring how long it would take them to travel to her. Finally, he came back on the line. "Yeah. Be there tomorrow."

She gave them the name of her motel and room number and sat back to go over all the information. She wasn't letting this thing get away from her now.

The next evening, there was a knock at her door. She smiled as she opened it and saw Mark Campbell. He was a nice guy. She gave him a small hug and said, "Mark, thanks."

"Rawhead, huh? Nasty pieces of work."

"You're telling me. I…it slipped my grasp in Kentucky." She wished she had known it needed stronger electrocution than she'd done, then there wouldn't be a string of deaths that led her to this place. The blood of those children was on her hands. She would never get over that.

"Ryan Fawcett, meet my cousin, Sam Winchester…"

Ryan's mouth fell open as Sam stepped into her room. "S-Sam?"

He grinned at her. "Yeah. Do I know you?"

She blinked. "Uh…yeah, sort of. I know Dean." It was easier to admit than how she knew Sam. She was afraid she might slip up and say something she wasn't supposed to, something that would raise suspicion about her having knowledge of.

His grin grew and he snorted as he appraised her. "Yeah, you're his type, aren't you?"

Something about the cold way he looked at her had her on high alert. He was…predatory, she supposed. He was different, yet similar to Dean. But where as Dean's dark humor and appraising eyes turned her on, Sam…scared her.

She cleared her throat and motioned to her wall of information. "So, here's what I've got so far…"

The next few hours were a flurry of activity as they figured out most likely where the thing would strike next. It was a large area to cover, but by following its patterns and kills Ryan had been keeping track of, it narrowed down their field of possible hits until they had a good idea where it would strike that night.

"You a decent hunter, Ryan?" Sam asked while Mark had gone out to get them food. Ryan had wanted to do it, but Mark offered, and there was no gracious way to demand she go in his stead. She didn't like the idea of being left alone with Sam. She wasn't sure why. Mark was a sweetheart, and Dean always made her comfortable. She had been more than shocked to find that the Campbell she knew was related to the Winchesters, but at the same time, not really surprised. Of course they were. Her life wasn't complicated enough, was it?

"Yeah, I am," she stated simply, because, she knew that much. She was a great hunter. She'd learned a lot on her own, and Bobby had filled in the rest. And even though she wasn't hunting as often as she could, she was still staying sharp. "Bobby taught me a lot, what your dad and Dean didn't, anyway."

Sam chuckled. "How exactly do you know my dad and Dean, huh?"

"Your mother and mine were friends in Lawrence, Kansas. We moved to North Carolina. You guys came and stayed with us once."

He tapped his chin in thought a moment. "Ahhh, that's right. Dean's first exorcism. How could I forget?"

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. She didn't like talking about that. She was far from the scared little girl she had been that night, and she was far removed from the woman afraid of men. She wouldn't be scared of him, no matter how obvious it was that Hell had done something to him. He wasn't like this…from what she'd read in The Gospels, he was a sweet kid, kind, caring, attentive…but this Sam was cold, calculating, a hunter in every sense of the word.

He was silent a moment, appraising her with arctic eyes. "You said you know Dean? You've hunted with him?"

"Yeah." Her tone was clipped. She wished she could figure out what it was about him that made her so uncomfortable. She hadn't been skittish around men in years, but he was seriously throwing her off her game.

"Why haven't you asked where Dean is?" he wanted to know.

_Shit! Rookie mistake! _She thought fast and shrugged. "I figured since you were hunting with Mark, and he's your cousin, ya'll just went on separate hunts. Why? He's not…dead is he?"

Sam smirked. "Nah, he's shacked up with some chick and a kid he thinks is his."

"That's…nice."

His eyes narrowed. "Jealous?"

She sat back in her chair and eyed him. She'd be damned if she would give anything away to the smug bastard. "Why should I be?"

"Oh, I don't know…you hook up a few times, you start thinking things…"

Her eyebrow rose. "I'm not some shrieking violet, Sam. Dean's a big boy. He can make grown up decisions. If he wants to shack up with some chick, good for him. I do have a life besides being one night in his." It was true, but it hurt to say, she could admit that to herself.

"Is that a fact? Well, good to know, I guess. So…are you the female equivalent of Dean? You hook up with a lot of guys?"

Tired of his shit, she leaned in closer and whispered in a deadly tone, "That's none of your business, Sam."

His hand drifted out to finger the errant curl resting on the sleeve of her pink plaid shirt. "So, Ryan, you said you learned things from my dad. When?"

Her confidence gone, she leaned as far back from him as she could. "In college," she stated simply as she stood to move away from him. They had been sitting together at the small table, but now she got up and walked over to the wall of information. He was freaking her out like a man hadn't in years. "He and Dean came and disposed of a vengeful spirit."

"I see. And you've seen Dean since then?"

"Just once…we worked a case together in New Orleans. Some witches."

"Ah, okay."

She turned to say something to him, but she gasped when she realized he was right behind her. He smiled genially, but his eyes were like hazel ice. "So…Mark?"

"Yeah, uh, we met up on a case a long time back. It should have been a simple salt and burn, but, hey, rarely are they ever, you know?" Her mouth was dry simply from his close proximity. He was so much bigger than her. How odd. It never occurred to her. Dean was bigger than her, surely, but he wasn't so damn _scary_.

Sam ran a finger down her arm. "So…have you made it a habit of fucking all my relatives, or just Dean?"

She gasped and slapped his face. "Fuck you, Sam. It's none of your business."

He shrugged and his smile grew. "Hey, I was just wondering if I needed to hop on the train and get my free ride or not."

"You…you…_bastard,_" she spat. "How _dare _you!"

He smirked but held his ground. "Hey, calm down. I didn't take you for a frigid bitch, Ryan. I guess I was wrong."

"Damn right you're wrong."

Instead of backing away, he moved closer until he had her all but pinned to the wall. "That's too bad, Ryan. I bet you're one hell of a firecracker."

"This isn't you," she whispered. "You aren't like this."

His smile was cold, soulless, almost. "You don't know me, Ryan."

"I know Dean didn't raise you like this," she reasoned.

He chuckled flatly. "Dean isn't here. I am."

She swallowed hard. _Gabriel! _she shouted in her head. She was terrified of him. There was no way she could stop him if he tried… Suddenly, she felt Gabriel take over for her and her body reacted. She brought her knee up between Sam's legs.

He hissed out a breath as he stumbled away from her. Gabriel gave her back control in time for her anger to flare and she punched him in the face as he fell to the floor. "I'm not a _whore, _Sam. I might have willingly fucked Dean but you aren't getting any free rides. You stay the fuck away from me, understand?"

He somehow managed to stand and nodded. "I'm…sorry. I thought…"

"No, you didn't think, did you?"

"I thought it was a game," he said softly as he stood.

"I don't play games when it comes to sex, Sam. Being gang raped changes your opinion of sex as a whole."

Something like sorrow flashed in his hazel eyes for a moment, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. They stood staring at one another for a moment before they heard the door open and Mark walked in. "Food," he said simply.

Sam walked over to him, now barely limping, but Ryan took a stuttering breath to try and calm down. This…this was not Sam. She didn't know who he was, but he wasn't Sam, not the Sammy that Dean loved, not the Sam she had read about in The Gospels. This…there was something _wrong _with him. They had tested one another with the silver knife, the holy water, all that jazz, but he definitely wasn't acting right.

"Ryan, you hungry?" Mark asked as he held up the bag that more than likely held her food.

She swallowed. She wasn't. She had lost her appetite, but she nodded. She needed to keep up her strength. "Yeah, starved." In her head, she muttered, _thanks, Gabe. _

He replied, _hey, what are friends for? _

It was pitch black when they made their way to the house that night. It was the only one that fit the profile in the vicinity with children living in it. There were two children there; a boy and girl, ages six and four.

"You okay?" Mark inquired quietly as they crept to the dwelling. He was quiet, that meant he was intuitive. Ryan knew he could sense the strain between Sam and herself.

"Yeah, I'm just eager to kill this bastard," Ryan told him.

"Me too," Sam grinned as he held up his taser.

"Okay, so, the mom's out with friends, dad is at work, there's a teenager babysitting. Their play area is down in the basement," Ryan told them. She'd done a full work up on finding out what the family was doing that night. "They'll be back from their pizza night in a few minutes. Keep your eyes peeled. No need to freak out the babysitter."

"She legal?"

Ryan shot Sam a glare. "Does it fucking matter?"

Sam shrugged. "Depends on how gracious she is to us saving her life."

She just looked at him. "You're a pig."

"Your opinion matters," he countered sarcastically.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes as Mark opened the small basement window and Ryan slid inside before she hurriedly made her way up the stairs to let them in the back door. Now, they waited.

It was cramped in the small closet with the two men as she heard the sounds of the house coming to life. Soon, she heard the children playing, then she heard another sound. "Go!" she hissed and they burst out the door, then the battle began.

They had worked out the strategy before they arrived. The thing knew Ryan, had her scent, it would never let her take the kids upstairs, so that was Mark's job while she and Sam handled the beast.

It slashed at them with razor sharp claws as they circled it, trying to get a good shot with their tasers. It reached out, batting them both around, shoving them before they could right themselves. They managed to encircle it again as they waited for the right opportunity to hit it. They only had one shot each, so they had to make it good. Suddenly, Sam switched directions and grabbed Ryan before giving her a shove in the beast's direction. It clawed her and she felt the searing pain as its hand sank into the flesh of her right shoulder. She cried out and tried to turn but it had gotten its claw stuck in her skin. That was all Sam needed to juice the thing and she just barely managed to wrench herself free as it began convulsing. She shot it with her taser as well and the combined electricity had it reduced to a pile of vicerous junk only moments later.

Hot tears were running down her face as the rolling nausea from the pain traveled through her. She wavered on her feet and Sam caught her as she fell. "Sorry," he muttered as she lost consciousness.

She came to sitting in the passenger seat door of the Campbell's van. "We gotta go," Mark muttered as he helped her get her feet in the car.

She was woozy and she could feel the blood oozing out of her as they tore down the road back to the hotel. She glanced at Mark, whose face was tense, then toward the back where Sam looked quite pleased with himself. She kept quiet until they helped her back into the room and Mark helped her take her shirt off so he could assess the damage.

"Shit, it's bad."

"Stitch me up," she muttered as her eyes narrowed at Sam. "Was that necessary?" she managed as she almost vibrated with anger.

"What?" he asked as he plopped down next to her, handing her the bottle of whiskey.

She downed a generous mouthful and snarled, "Throwing me to the fucking thing."

He looked surprised at her accusation. "Excuse me?"

"You tossed me at that fucking thing like I was a snack! You almost got me killed!"

"I did not!" he shot back heatedly. "We were working together to take the thing down!"

"Was that what it was? Because it felt like you were using me for bait so you could take the kill shot, Sam."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy you two," Mark muttered as he came over with the first aid kit from the van. "Let's get you cleaned up."

She tried to hold it in, but she screamed as he poured whiskey over the wound. "Fuck!" she growled.

"This'll hurt like a bitch," he muttered.

"Ain't my first patch up, Mark," she commented as she laid her head down on the back of the chair she was currently straddling. "Remember Tulsa?"

He chuckled. "I seem to remember it was _you _who patched _me _up."

She smirked. "Good times." She was surprised when a hand found its way to hers.

Her head shot up and she looked into contrite hazel eyes. "I really didn't do it on purpose," Sam told her softly. "I thought you were ready to juice him."

Her eyes narrowed yet again. She wasn't sure she believed him. There had been something in his eyes, like he'd gotten a thrill out of seeing her hurt. But maybe she was imagining it. Maybe he hadn't meant it. Maybe he was just that different from Dean. Maybe she was just exhausted and ready to get back to her kid. She felt the needle enter her skin and all her other thoughts disappeared. None of it mattered now. It was over. She was alive. The monster was dead. That was a victory, wasn't it?

* * *

**AN2: So...hope you all enjoyed! I've got one more chapter, then, we go see Ryan's POV of Chapter 5 (the vampire one). See you then!**


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